


Multitudes

by argentoswan



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: AU, Abuse, Angst, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lamp - Freeform, Logan Roman and Patton are smitten with the cute barista, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Slow Burn, antagonistic deceit, coffee shop AU, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 57,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentoswan/pseuds/argentoswan
Summary: Virgil likes the new group of regulars at the coffee shop, even if he doesn't understand why they tip him so well. LAMP coffee shop AU in which everyone is secretly smitten with each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tw: this story contains mentions of and descriptions of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse. also- hints of a non disclosed eating disorder.

Virgil fit a plastic lid onto the coffee cup, feeling the heat glide across his fingers as he secured it on.

“One medium black coffee,” he said, carrying it back over to the counter where a woman was typing one handed on her phone. “That’ll be $4.95.”

“Keep the change,” she said without looking at him, sliding a bill across the counter. As she grabbed her cup, turned, and left, Virgil picked up the five dollars she had left behind.

“Gee,” he said under his breath, opening the register. “Thanks.”

He pulled a nickel out and dropped it in the half empty tip jar, just to be thorough. A neon pink sticky note reading “Cool people TIP!” had been taped to the front of the jar. An ice cube wearing sunglasses was sketched into the corner, and Virgil took a moment to stare into the cartoon’s dark, empty lenses. He was sure those badly drawn finger guns held the explanation for all of mankind’s suffering somewhere in there.

“Boom,” Alice said, sidling up next to Virgil with a towel in her hands. She beamed at him, dark lipstick smudged a bit at the corner of her lips. “And that’s how you handle a lunch rush. Can I get a hell yeah?”

She bumped her hip into his, and Virgil let himself be jostled with an inward sigh. “Hell yeah,” he said flatly.

“Great enthusiasm,” Alice said. “Did we do alright on tips?”

“We have at least one nickel in that jar.”

“Cool, that’s half a nickel for both of us! I’m telling you, Virgil, our luck is changing. We are on the upward climb, the road to success! And it all begins with that little nickel.”

Virgil cocked his eyebrows and plucked the towel out of her hands. “I’ll be sure to thank Thomas Jefferson in my acceptance speech one day. It all started with good old TJ.”

“I thought Lincoln was on the nickel?”

“Nah, Abe’s on the penny.”

“That’s super shitty,” Alice said. “Lincoln kept our country together through, like, a super rough war, and he gets stuck on a worthless piece of copper?”

“Yeah, it’s not great,” Virgil said. He wiped up a bit of spilled milk underneath the milk frother. “The penny’s the only coin that’s a different color, though. That’s kind of fun for Lincoln.”

“True,” Alice said. “But still shitty.” She braced herself against the counter and peered into the dessert container, which had been ransacked by the twelve o’clock rush. “I’m gonna restock,” she said. “Make sure no one takes our nickel.”

“I’ll guard it with my life,” Virgil promised, watching as she slipped behind the green felt curtain that hid the entrance to the kitchen.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Virgil turned to see a man at the counter, obviously waiting for Virgil to turn back around and do his job.

“I’m so sorry,” Virgil apologized, setting the towel down and stepping up to the register.

“Don’t be!” The man beamed at him. His smile was easy and wide, his cheeks dimpled as his face lit up. “I wanted to wait until you guys didn’t have your hands quite so full. That sure was a lot of people!”

“Lunch rush,” Virgil said. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, gee,” he said. He glanced into the near empty dessert case. “Do you mind if I take your last blueberry muffin?”

“Not at all,” Virgil said. He grabbed a paper bag and ducked down to slide the back of the case open. He used the tongs to deftly grab the last muffin off of the tray and slide it into the bag. “Anything else?”

“Another hot chocolate would be amazing.” The dimples were back. If his smile didn't look so genuine, Virgil might have thought he was faking them. 

“Whipped cream?” Virgil asked as he snagged a paper cup.

“With chocolate sauce, if you can.”

Virgil nodded and scribbled the order along the side of the cup with a sharpie. He turned it slightly to add the name he remembered from the man’s earlier order. “Two t’s, right?” It was a personal pet peeve of his when baristas spelled names wrong, so he always made sure to ask if he was uncertain about his own spelling.

“Yup,” the man said with a grin. “You remember?”

“Sure.” Virgil set the cup off to the side and hit buttons on the register. “That’ll be $6.50.”

The man pulled out a pastel blue wallet and dug a ten out. Virgil counted out his change and handed it over along with his receipt.

“We’ll call your name when your order is ready,” Virgil said.

“Thanks a bunch!” The man shoved the coins and receipt into his already full wallet. He dropped a single bill into their empty tip jar at grinned at Virgil before turning to wander off into the busy coffee shop.

Alice grunted behind him as she re-emerged with a tray of pastries. “Don’t go back there,” she said, balancing it on her knee as she crouched in front of the dessert tray. “Jordan dropped a batch of cookies and Kendra is livid with him.”

“What kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip,” Alice said, putting out a new tray of blueberry muffins.

“Do we get to eat them?”

“They fell on the floor, Virgil.”

“We’re poor.”

“You are absolutely right,” Alice said. “I already grabbed two and hid them, I’ll give yours to you later.”

“You’re a champ.” Virgil set about making the hot chocolate as Alice finished restocking the baked goods. It was his only order and no other customers were waiting, so he took his time to make sure the whipped cream was swirled artfully. He drizzled chocolate sauce over the top, biting his tongue in concentration, and then took a moment to admire his small masterpiece.

“Shit, I need more croissants,” Alice said from the ground. “I can’t go back there.”

“You’re not guilting me into doing it,” Virgil said. He picked up the drink and carried it carefully over to the pick up counter. “Patton?”

The man popped up in front of him. “Oh, wow!” he exclaimed, grabbing the cup carefully with both hands. “That looks beautiful. I guess I have my Instagram pic sorted out for the day, huh?”

Virgil forced a smile at him. “Have a nice day, Patton.”

“You, too!” Patton’s eyes dropped reflexively to Virgil’s black apron. It was futile; Virgil didn’t wear name tags anymore, not since a particularly nasty Yelp review had called him out by name and almost cost him his job. He now made it a point to never give out any personal evidence to customers that could trace their complaints back to him.

Alice was still on the floor when Virgil turned back around. The empty tray lay abandoned at her side, and her earlier jubilance had been replaced by a very depressing frown.

“I can’t get up,” she said when Virgil just stared at her. “My feet hurt.”

“Aw,” Virgil said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Poor baby.”

“I know.” Alice stuck her bottom lip out at him. “Pass me the tip jar, will you? I need to see Thomas Jefferson’s face. Maybe he’ll give me strength.”

Virgil snorted and snagged the jar off the counter. “Nice drawing, by the way,” he said, handing it to her. “Visual puns, very classy.”

“I thought it would encourage more generosity,” Alice said, cradling the jar close to her chest.

Virgil picked up the towel again and set to work cleaning off the counter, which was sticky with spilled drinks at this time of the day.

“Dude,” Alice said incredulously, her hand shoved deep in the tip jar. “Who gave us a ten?”

“Huh?” Virgil accepted the jar when Alice handed it up to him and glanced in. There was a thin layer of coins on the bottom, and on top of them, a wrinkled ten dollar bill that he hadn’t seen before. “Oh, wow,” he said, blinking at it. “It must have been our last customer.”

“The one that was flirting with you?”

Virgil felt his cheeks heat up. “He wasn’t flirting,” he said, dropping the jar back on the counter.

“Right.” Alice groaned as she got to her feet. “Since you’re not going to help me, I’m going to go brave the kitchens and get the rest of the croissants. Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” Virgil said, grinning at her as she disappeared once more behind the curtain.

Virgil turned back around to look at the coffee shop. It was a small place crowded with mismatched armchairs and plush rugs and wooden tables that had seen better days. A fire was burning in the fireplace to cut through the chill weather outside. It was only October, but the weather was quickly dipping into an early winter.

Virgil reached out and turned the tip jar so that the ice cube was facing out again. Maybe it was giving them some kind of luck.

X X X X X

“Absolutely,” Dee said. Virgil watched him pluck a piece of lint off of his coat and stare at it for a few moments, listening to whoever was on the other end of his phone call. “Yes, I- yes, I completely understand. I can definitely make that happen. Uh huh. Alright.”

He flicked the lint off and glanced at Virgil, who sat across from him in the wooden chair they had pulled into the living room in lieu of their old armchair, which had broken a few months before. He twitched his lips into a half smile and winked at Virgil as he said, “Oh, you have my word.”

“Something wrong?” Virgil asked as soon as he lowered his phone.

“Stupidity, darling,” Dee said. He dropped his cell phone onto the couch cushion beside him and sighed. “Always stupidity. There’s no helping that, though, so you just have to go along with it if you want to get your way. Did you finish dinner?”

“Yeah.” Virgil hopped to his feet and led the way into their kitchen. “It isn’t much- I need to go grocery shopping- but I made some baked chicken and asparagus.”

“That’s fine,” Dee said. He sat at the counter as Virgil served the food onto a plate and set it in front of him. “Do we have wine?”

“I think so,” Virgil said. He went and opened the cabinet, peering into the back until he spotted the unopened bottle he had bought a few weeks ago. He reached in and snagged it, along with a wine glass.

Dee watched Virgil uncork the bottle as he ate. As he poured the drink into the glass, he said, “You aren’t having some?”

“Oh, no,” Virgil said. He slid the glass over to Dee and looked carefully down at the red-stained cork on the counter. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Oh, come on, you have to have at least one glass. It’s no fun drinking alone.” Dee raised his wine and grinned over the lip of the glass at him. “For me?”

Virgil repressed a groan and instead smiled at Dee. “Just one, I guess,” he said, and fetched another glass down.

The wine was good. Virgil took two large gulps of it right off the bat, hoping to finish his glass quickly.

“Dinner is good,” Dee said, cutting up a piece of asparagus and spearing it onto his fork.

“Thanks,” Virgil said. He sat down at the counter beside Dee, not bothering to get himself a serving. He wasn’t hungry. “How was work?”

“Exhausting, as always,” Dee said. “It’s nice to come home to such a pretty face, though.”

Virgil ducked his head down to hide his smile and took another sip of his wine. Already he could feel the tension fading from his shoulders. Sometimes he forgot how quickly alcohol worked on him.

When Dee had finished his meal, Virgil cleaned up and put the leftovers away while the other man went into the living room to respond to emails on his phone. Virgil had already finished one glass of wine and had taken Dee’s offer to refill it without much persuasion, so he grabbed his drink and wandered off to join his boyfriend.

They lived in a tiny apartment with just enough room for a small living room and adjoining kitchen, along with one bedroom and bathroom. It wasn’t much, but it was far better than any place Virgil had lived in before he had gotten together with Dee. Dee was paying for a lot of it, too, a fact that Virgil was always very aware of when it came time to pay bills.

Dee didn’t look up from his phone when Virgil joined him on the sofa. He was frowning down at the screen, the artificial light illuminating the sharp scowl on his face. Virgil settled in next to him, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched, and curled his legs up underneath him.

“Want to watch Friends?” he asked, balancing his wine glass against his knee.

Dee just waved one hand dismissively. Virgil leaned forward and grabbed the remote, turning on the television. It took him a minute to find the show, and when he hit play, Dee sighed loudly and threw his phone onto the coffee table.

“They’re all idiots,” he said as the familiar theme song began playing.

“Work again?”

“Of course.”

Dee crossed his arms and glared at the screen. Virgil uncertainly sipped at his wine, trying to decide what to do. Dee was obviously working himself up into one of his fits, and Virgil hadn’t quite figured out a universal method for calming him down yet. Sometimes he wanted space, and sometimes he wanted attention, and if Virgil got it wrong he would just escalate the situation.

“Do you want more wine?” he asked. As far as universal methods went, alcohol was the best option he had.

“No,” Dee said. He pursed his lips angrily as Ross came onto the screen.

Virgil leaned forward and set his drink on the coffee table. He shifted so that he was pressed against Dee, opting for a more physical approach. He was further encouraged when Dee’s hand came to rest on his knee, his touch warm and heavy.

Virgil let his head rest on Dee’s shoulder as they watched the show together. Dee moved his thumb, stroking Virgil’s knee. The wine in Virgil’s system and the easy storyline of the episode lulled him into a state of relaxation, and he smiled contentedly against Dee’s shoulder.

When Joey burst onto the screen to the backing of a laugh track, Dee’s hand shifted. It moved further up his leg, onto his thigh, fingers wandering. Virgil’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t move as Dee continued to explore.

Virgil held himself still until Dee’s touch got too close for comfort. He shifted and reached out to put his hand over Dee’s, stilling it.

“Not right now, Dee,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the screen.

Dee moved, turning his hips so that he was facing towards Virgil. His other hand came across to touch Virgil’s hip, to slide underneath the hem of his shirt so that his cold fingers pressed against Virgil’s bare stomach. Virgil gasped at the chill and squirmed away.

“Dee,” he said, grabbing Dee’s wrist and shoving it away. “Not tonight.”

“Come on, Virge,” Dee said. He turned completely now, bracing one arm on the back of the sofa to lean over Virgil. When he pressed his face in close, Virgil could smell the wine on his breath. “I need a little stress relief.”

“Dee.” Virgil gasped again and arched his back when Dee’s lips came down on the spot on his neck that Dee knew was extra sensitive. Dee took that as an invitation to lower his hips, grinding against Virgil’s lower body. “Dee, quit it.”

He pushed hard at Dee’s shoulders. Dee sat up, mouth open and lips beginning to redden. He narrowed his eyes down at Virgil.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” Virgil said. He pushed himself onto his elbows and slid the hem of his shirt back down to cover himself. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. “No, I’m just-”

“What, I can’t even make out with my own boyfriend now? Is it something I did?”

“No, of course not.” Virgil could still feel the clouding press of wine in his veins, and he shook his head to try and clear it. “I’m just tired.”

“Just tired.” Dee’s voice was scathing. “So am I, Virgil, but I still want to spend time with you. God, I don’t see you all day, and when I try to spend some time with you you act like it’s some great chore. Is that what I am to you? A chore?”

“Of- of course not, Dee, I- please-” Virgil reached out to touch Dee’s shoulder, to try and calm him down, but Dee shoved his hand away. Virgil drew it back to his chest and watched with wide eyes as Dee stood up.

“I’m not in the mood, Virgil,” he said. He turned away so that Virgil was left staring at the hard set of his shoulders. “Enjoy your show.”

Virgil winced when Dee slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, the sharp sound echoing down the hallway and back into the living room. He sat there for a moment, pressed into the corner of the couch, the television laughing loudly about something. It was several minutes before Virgil felt stable enough to sit up and press the power button on the remote to shut it off.

He took a deep, shaky breath and hunched over, as though making himself smaller would somehow make him feel better. He had fucked up. Dee had already been having a hard day, Virgil _knew_ that, and he had still treated him like shit. Virgil seemed to be doing that a lot nowadays. He had always prided himself on being an attentive boyfriend, but recently it seemed that he had been slipping.

He could feel his breath quickening, his chest constricting. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands to his throat, trying to force the panic back down. He couldn’t have an attack right now. He hadn’t had one in several days, and he couldn’t have one now; he needed to be okay so he could go and apologize to Dee and make it all better.

Virgil contemplated contacting someone, reaching out to- who, exactly? The only semblance of a friend he had was Alice, and he could never go to her with his embarrassing relationship drama or anxiety stuff. Virgil didn’t have anyone else to go to, no one except for Dee, whom he had already troubled enough tonight.

Virgil sat on the couch and trembled until the worst of it passed over him. By then half an hour had passed, and he slowly unfolded his stiff limbs and wiped at his eyes. The television screen was blank and silent, and Virgil couldn’t hear any sounds coming from the bedroom.

Virgil stood and gripped the arm of the sofa to steady himself. He took another deep breath, proud when he was able to draw it all the way into his lungs.

He needed to apologize.

The bedroom door wasn’t locked, which Virgil took as a good sign. He turned the knob and eased the door open, peering inside. The room was dark, but he could just make out the shape of Dee lying on the bed, covers drawn up over him.

Virgil slipped in and shut the door. He crept across the room and stopped at the foot of the bed, staring at Dee’s still figure, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t like the idea of waking Dee up just to beg for his forgiveness, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving it until the morning, either.

Virgil jumped when Dee’s voice said, “What, Virgil?”

“I thought you were asleep,” Virgil whispered.

Dee just grunted and turned over so he was lying on his side. Virgil hesitated a second longer before moving forward, coming to Dee’s side of the bed and slowly lowering himself down to crouch on his knees.

“Dee?” he whispered into the darkness.

“ _What,_ Virgil?”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Dee shifted, and Virgil saw the glint of his eyes staring at him in the darkness.

“What was that?”

“I’m sorry, Dee. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad, you don’t- you never deserve to feel that way.” Virgil stumbled on his words, feeling tears rising into his eyes yet again that night. He sniffed, but before he could wipe them away Dee’s thumb was gently brushing his cheekbone.

“I know,” Dee said. “It’s just that sometimes I… sometimes I wonder if you still love me, Virgil.”

“I do!” Virgil reached up and caught Dee’s hand in his own, horrified. “Of course I do, Dee, of course I love you.”

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much do you love me?”

Virgil’s hands were trembling, and he gripped Dee’s fingers to try and steady them. He leaned forward to brush his lips against Dee’s knuckles. “So much,” he whispered. “I love you so much, I-”

“I just like to know I’m needed, Virgil.”

“You are. I need you, Dee, I love you so, so much, and I’m- I’m so sorry.”

Virgil pressed his lips against the back of Dee’s hand, trying to communicate just how sorry he was. After a moment he felt Dee’s hand come down on his head to comb through his hair, and Dee sighed heavily.

“Come here, Virgil.”

He shifted so that Virgil could crawl onto the bed beside him. Virgil slid underneath the warm covers and pressed himself close to Dee, burying his face in his shoulder as Dee’s arm came down to pull him close in a tight embrace.

“It’s alright, darling,” he whispered, running his fingers along Virgil’s lower back. “It’s alright, I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Virgil mumbled into the fabric of Dee’s t-shirt.

Dee’s hand came up to touch the back of Virgil’s neck. Virgil lifted his head just enough for Dee to press in, pushing their lips together. When his tongue darted out to poke at Virgil’s bottom lip, Virgil obediently opened his mouth, repentant and pliant under Dee’s touch.

“It’s okay,” Dee whispered again when he pulled away. His knee came forward to nudge between Virgil’s legs. “There are ways to make it up to me, hmm?”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as Dee’s hands began to explore again. This time, he didn’t protest.

X X X X X

If Virgil heard Jingle Bells one more time, he was going to punch a piece of very expensive equipment.

It was December first, and Christmas was in full swing in all of its commercialized glory. Virgil’s manager Ricky had put a Christmas playlist on shuffle and left it playing all day, and Alice had been enthusiastically singing along to every single song for the past three hours.

“Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells,” she sang as she slid out of the kitchen with a fresh jug of milk. “Jingle all the way. Oh what- sing it, Virgil!”

“I’m going to stab you,” Virgil muttered, vehemently stirring the macchiato he was making.

“With what, a spoon? Have a little Christmas spirit, Scrooge.”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I beg to differ,” Alice said, opening the freezer under the counter and shoving the milk in. “It’s Christmas day _one_. We have so many Christmases ahead of us, Virgil. Christmas two and Christmas three and-”

“Caramel macchiato for Shannon,” Virgil yelled louder than necessary in an attempt to get Alice to shut up.

“All the way up to Christmas twenty-five,” she said when Virgil turned back around. “And then a week of more relaxing Christmases up until New Years.”

“That’s not how holidays work, Alice.”

“Obviously you’ve never experienced Christmas the right way. As soon as I convince Ricky to let us have a holiday party, you’ll really get into the spirit of things.”

“Right,” Virgil said, and was saved from further conversation by someone stepping up to the counter.

“Hi!” It was Patton, whom Virgil recognized immediately. He had taken to coming in several times a week, and he was always friendly and _always_ tipped well.

“Hello,” Virgil said. He glanced briefly at the man beside Patton. He was taller and thinner, with dark hair smoothed back and a bored expression behind his glasses. He stared openly at Virgil, who forced a polite smile before turning back to Patton. “What can I get for you guys?”

“Well, I told Logan here all about your beautiful hot chocolates,” Patton said, “and we decided that I simply _had_ to bring him to see. So one large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“Regular or peppermint?” Virgil asked, picking up a cup. He nearly dropped it when Patton squealed loudly.

“Oh, it’s December!” he exclaimed, cheeks pinched with a smile. “That’s so fun. I’ll have peppermint, please- with lots of whipped cream!”

“Just coffee for me,” the other man- Logan- said. Even his voice sounded unimpressed. “Black.”

“Can you put peppermint in that too?” Patton asked, and Logan looked down at him with a frown.

“That’s gross, Patton,” he said.

“It’s Christmas!”

“Black,” Logan said to Virgil, giving him a long suffering look that Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what to do with.

“Okay,” Virgil said, scrawling their drinks and names on the side of the cup. “Is that all?”

“Yup!” Patton said. “Although I might have to come back for another one of your muffins later. The blueberry ones are so good.”

Patton pulled out his wallet again to give Virgil the payment, and when Virgil handed his change over to him he dropped a five dollar bill into the tip jar. Virgil smiled at him.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Thank _you_.” Patton beamed at him again before the two men stepped away.

Alice had already started making the peppermint hot chocolate. Virgil poured the hot coffee while she finished mixing the chocolate syrup into the drink.

“Did he tip again?” she asked, glancing over the machine to make sure no customers were near.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Five bucks.”

Alice whistled. “Amazing,” she said. “Man, if he keeps flirting with you we’re going to be rich, Virge.”

Virgil fit the lid onto the coffee and frowned at Alice. “He wasn’t flirting.”

Alice snorted. Virgil snatched the whipped cream canister from her hand with a scowl. “You have another order,” he said, and Alice sighed before turning back to the register to greet the customer brightly.

Virgil carefully swirled the whipped cream onto the drink and then drizzled the whole thing with small loops of chocolate sauce. Then he ducked down and dug the small bag of sticky crushed peppermint out from the cupboard. He opened it and reached in, grabbing a small pinch to sprinkle over the drink.

“You sure are taking your time with that one.”

Alice was making a latte. She grinned at him, flapping her large fake eyelashes when Virgil scowled at her again.

He picked up the two drinks and carried them over to the pick up counter. “Hot chocolate for Patton, coffee for Logan,” he called out.

Patton hurried over, eyes wide behind his glasses, with Logan following a few paces behind him.

“It’s even prettier than before!” Patton picked up his hot chocolate and looked closer at it. “Thanks so much!”

“No problem,” Virgil said, smiling despite himself. Patton’s smile was proving to be rather infectious. “Enjoy.”

Logan picked up his coffee with a curt nod and turned to follow Patton towards the seating area.

“Not flirting, my ass,” Alice whispered into his ear as she passed behind him with a fresh stack of straws.

They worked in relative peace for another half hour, at which point Alice pressed a warm drink into his hand and said, “First gingerbread latte of the year. Go take your break.”

Virgil curled his fingers around the cup and grinned at her. “Thanks, Alice.”

“I know, I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. See you in fifteen.”

Virgil took his drink back into the kitchen and slipped his apron off, leaving it hanging on a hook by the door. The head baker, Kendra, had her head half shoved into an oven and was shouting something about it not being clean enough. Her assistant Jordan stood behind her; he looked at Virgil with a panicked look as he passed, and Virgil just shrugged apologetically and left before Kendra took notice of him.

He headed towards the area of the coffee shop crowded with tables and chairs. He usually liked to take his breaks by the fire when it was cold out, but even though they hadn’t had many customers today, his normal spot was taken by a group of elderly women chatting over now lukewarm coffees. Virgil clutched his drink closer to himself and glanced around the half empty room, looking for the next best place to hunker down for fifteen minutes and look through Tumblr.

“Hey! Hi!”

Virgil’s gaze was drawn over to the circular table next to the window. Patton was waving at him, the bright blue of his cardigan sticking out against the drab grey armchair he was sitting in. Logan, across from him, had his laptop out on the table, and was typing away at something as though unaware of his surroundings.

Virgil hesitated. He liked taking his breaks alone, but he also didn’t want to be rude to the only person who had ever tipped him decently.

“You looked like you were trying to find somewhere to sit,” Patton said as  Virgil approached. He gestured to one of the other empty seats pulled up to the table. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like!”

“Uh, thanks,” Virgil said. He sat down in the seat beside Patton, glancing at Logan out of the corner of his eye. The other man was still typing, lips pursed thoughtfully.

“Are you on your break?” Patton asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.” Patton smiled at him. His empty cup sat on the table in front of him; Logan’s was still half full. “I just wanted to tell you that my hot chocolate was amazing. I think we found a new favorite coffee shop, huh, Logan?”

“Mhm,” Logan said, not looking up from his screen.

“He’s working on an assignment,” Patton explained to Virgil. “He’s our little scholar.”

“I have an approaching deadline.” Logan glanced up to meet Virgil’s eyes briefly. His eyes were a shockingly dark shade of blue. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s- it’s fine,” Virgil said. He awkwardly raised his drink and took a small sip, and god, was it good. Alice always made his drinks overly sweet, just the way he liked it.

“What have you got?” Patton asked, looking at his cup curiously.

“It’s, uh- a gingerbread latte.”

“Yum! I’m so excited that it’s finally December. I’ve been trying to decorate our apartment for weeks, but Logan has insisted that we wait until today to start. We can go get a tree now!”

“We have to wait a few more days for that, love,” Logan said, backspacing rapidly.

Virgil took another sip of his drink, relaxing a bit into his seat. He had assumed that the two were dating, but he was glad for confirmation of it. Not that he cared, of course- they were absolute strangers- but now he could affirm to Alice that Patton was not, in fact, flirting with him.

“I don’t think I can wait that long, though. Getting a tree is the _best_ part of Christmas, and Roman said he found this new tree lot to try that’s like, ten times bigger than the one we usually go to.” When Virgil gave him a questioning look, Patton said, “Oh, Roman’s our boyfriend!”

“Your-” Virgil looked from him to Logan. “Your boyfriend?”

“Logan and I’s boyfriend, yeah,” Patton said. “He’s the absolute cutest. I’ll have to bring him by sometime, he loves cute coffee shops, and I think you and he would get along really well!”

Virgil blinked, still trying to make sense of Patton’s words in his head. Logan pressed a few more keys and then lifted his hands from the keyboard with a sigh.

“We are polyamorous,” he said, picking up his coffee cup and taking a small sip.

“Oh,” Virgil said. There was a small silence, and then he realized with a jolt what he must sound like. “That’s- I mean, that’s really cool. I’m sorry, I’ve just never met...”

“We’re a bit unconventional, but we’re happy that way!” Patton beamed at him, and Virgil couldn’t help but smile back, albeit a bit nervously. He was glad that Patton only ever ordered hot chocolate, because he was frightened of what caffeine would do to him.

Virgil pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time even though he knew he hadn't been away long enough. “Well,” he said, "I should get back to work.”

“Alright! I hope we didn’t bother you too much,” Patton said.

“Not at all,” Virgil assured him, standing up with his drink. “Thanks for letting me sit with you guys.”

“It was our pleasure! I like talking to you a _latte_.” Patton waggled his eyebrows at Virgil’s drink, and Virgil snorted in surprise.

“Patton,” Logan said, shutting his eyes briefly.

“What? He laughed!”

“It was nice to meet you,” Virgil said to Logan, who just nodded at him with a very strained expression.

Virgil gulped down the rest of his latte on the way back to the kitchen and dropped the empty cup in the trash on the way in. As he pulled his apron back over his head he watched Kendra roll out dough for cinnamon rolls, explaining very loudly all the various ways that Jordan had done it wrong the last time he had tried. He bit back a smile and slipped through the curtain.

“Right on time,” Alice said. She flicked her rag onto her shoulder and crossed her arms at him. “Enjoy your break?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, double knotting his apron securely. “The latte was fantastic.”

“I know,” Alice said. “So, what’d you talk about with our favorite customer?”

“I talked about all sorts of stuff with him. And his boyfriend.”

“So they are dating?” Virgil nodded, and Alice frowned. “Exclusively?”

“ _Alice_ ”

“What? I’m good at calling this stuff.”

“First of all, he definitely wasn’t flirting with me,” Virgil said. He was well aware of what he looked like- pale and too skinny, with makeup that was off-putting to most people. It was a wonder that Dee even put up with him. “Second of all, I actually _do_ have a boyfriend.”

“I know,” Alice said, “but that doesn’t mean that they know that.”

“Alice.”

“Aright, fine,” Alice said. She leaned back against the counter. Her dark hair was sliding out of its ponytail, falling to frame her round face in a way that would give Ricky a heart attack if he saw her serving customers like that. “How is this mysterious man of yours, anyways?”

“He’s fine,” Virgil said. “And hardly mysterious.”

“I haven’t met him yet.”

“And that makes him a mystery?”

“To me, yeah,” Alice said. “You should bring him to one of my parties sometime. Actually, _you_ should come to one of my parties sometime. You have an open invitation, you know.”

“Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“But you’ll love my parties. They aren’t really that big, and I provide quite the assortment of alcohol, if that’s your kind of scene. If it’s not, I also have a lot of different varieties of chips.”

“Tempting,” Virgil said. “I’ll think about it.”

The smile on Alice’s face was worth the uncomfortable feeling he got from lying to her.

X X X X X

Virgil enjoyed doing the laundry. It was a simple, repetitive task that he was fully capable of, one that made him feel both calm and useful. Also, when he was folding clothes that had just been pulled out of the dryer, they were often still warm to the touch and made everything that much cozier.

He was halfway through folding his newest stack of clothes on the bed when Dee got back from the lunch he had been at with a coworker. Virgil looked up and smiled at him when he walked into the room and shed his coat.

“How was lunch?” he asked, carefully folding a plain black shirt.

“Dismal,” Dee said. He walked over to the bed and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head. “Have you done the whites yet?”

“Already finished and put away,” Virgil said, and Dee squeezed his shoulder once in thanks.

“I’m exhausted.” Dee fell onto the bed beside Virgil, stretching with a loud groan. Virgil continued folding, piling everything into a neat snack at the foot of the bed.

“At least you’re done for the day, though,” he said.

“I’ve still got to get online and buy myself a plane ticket, though. That’s always a nightmare.”

Virgil’s hand stilled. He looked at Dee, who was rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Plane ticket?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” said Dee. He dropped his hands and looked at Virgil, one eyebrow cocked. “Oh, shit. Did I not tell you?”

“Tell you what?”

“My cousin’s getting married on Christmas Eve,” Dee said. “I’m going to head home and visit with my family for the week.”

Virgil slowly set the shirt he had been folding down on the bed, feeling a pressure already pushing against his chest. “Over- over Christmas?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Virgil dropped his head to stare at the sleeves of his favorite black and purple hoodie. On the other side of the bed, Dee sighed.

“Alright, what’s wrong now?”

“Can I not come?” Virgil’s voice sounded pathetic even to him, so he wasn’t surprised when Dee snorted.

“That side of the family is super homophobic,” Dee said. “So no. Sorry, Virge.”

“But-”

“What?”

Virgil twisted his fingers into the soft fabric of the shirt he was holding. It was one of his favorite pajama shirts, which he drew a bit of comfort out of.

“I thought we were spending Christmas together this year,” he said.

“What do you want me to do, Virgil? Not go to my cousin’s wedding?”

“No, it’s just- why didn’t you tell me?”

“It slipped my mind.”

“Right,” Virgil said. His throat was burning. He tossed his shirt down to the pile at the end of the bed, not bothering to fold it.

“Oh, come on, Virgil,” Dee groaned when Virgil stood up. Virgil heard the bed creak as he got to his feet as well. “Don’t be like this.”

“Stop,” Virgil said when Dee grabbed at his arm. He shrugged out of the grip and continued walking out of the room and into the hallway.

“Don’t be like this, Virgil. I just want to- will you at least let me explain?”

Virgil grit his teeth and kept walking, not looking back at his boyfriend. He yelped a moment later when Dee grabbed his arm again and gave him a hard shove, pushing him sideways into the wall. Virgil gasped when his shoulder collided hard, and pressed his back hurriedly against the wall to gape at Dee.

“What-” Tears were already welling in his eyes. Dee was frowning, but when he saw that Virgil was about to start crying, his expression softened.

“Oh, Virgil,” he said, stepping closer. Virgil let him take him gently take his wrists and tug him away from the wall. “Come here, darling.”

Virgil choked out his first sob as Dee wrapped him in an embrace. He buried his head into Dee’s shoulder as he started crying, soaking in Dee’s warmth and his hands rubbing circles into Virgil’s back.

“Virge,” he said above Virgil’s head. “You know I wouldn’t be going to this wedding unless I had to.”

“I have nowhere to go,” Virgil said, his voice muffled by Dee’s shirt. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll call you on Christmas,” Dee said. “And I’ll be back for New Years. We can spend New Years Eve together, and I’ll give you the best kiss of your life at midnight. How does that sound?”

That just made Virgil cry harder. At this point he wasn’t sure if he was crying because he was upset that Dee was leaving or from the residual shock of being pushed into the wall. That was unlike Dee; he wasn’t usually rough like that, and if he was it was only ever in the context of the bedroom, for which Virgil usually gave his consent. This had been a much more frightening moment, but Virgil figured that he shouldn’t have ignored Dee, anyways.

Dee held him until Virgil calmed down, rocking him slowly and shushing him when his crying got too loud. After, when Dee was buying himself a ticket, Virgil prepared dinner just for Dee that night, opting for nothing but a glass of wine for himself.

He had even less of an appetite than usual.

X X X X X

Patton came in regularly now, usually on weekdays just after lunch. He was always in a cheerful mood and always ordered a peppermint hot chocolate, and Virgil had taken to giving him an extra cup of just whipped cream for him to stir into his drink as he went. Sometimes he brought Logan with him, and the two of them worked separately on their laptops for a few hours at a table. If Virgil went on his break while they were there, he went and sat with them. It was a surprisingly pleasant habit they were settling into.

One day Patton walked in dragging both Logan and a man Virgil didn’t recognize behind him.

“Howdy!” Patton beamed at him. He was wearing a sunny yellow cardigan today, and his hair looked extra curly. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine,” Virgil said, glancing briefly at the other two. Logan nodded at him, and the other man stared back with raised eyebrows.

“Look, I finally brought Roman!” Patton raised the other man’s hand, which he was holding tightly. “Roman, this is-” Patton stopped, then turned back to Virgil with wide, horrified eyes. “Oh my gosh. I’ve never asked for your name.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said, trying to smile reassuringly at Patton. He hoped the poor guy wasn’t _actually_ as upset as he suddenly looked. “My, uh. My name’s Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Logan repeated, and Virgil flushed. He knew it was an odd name, but he was never going to be comfortable with the frown he always received upon telling people. Just another reason he refused to wear a name tag.

“Virgil,” Roman said. He showed off a row of straight teeth as he grinned and offered his hand across the counter. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Virgil awkwardly took it. Roman’s grip was strong, which Virgil wasn’t surprised by. The man wasn’t particularly tall- Logan was taller than him, and Virgil thought even he might have him beat- but his shoulders were broad and his jaw was cut in a way that screamed  _I work out!_

“Yeah,” Virgil said, letting go of his hand as soon as possible. “Well, can- can I take your guys’s order?”

“The usual for me,” Patton said with a wink. Logan ordered a plain coffee while Roman stared up at the chalkboard menu hanging over Virgil’s head with a frown.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“Our seasonal drinks don’t have a lot of coffee in them,” Virgil said. “They’re mostly sugar.”

“Virgil likes the gingerbread latte,” Patton said, gripping Roman’s arm and pointing at the drink on the right side of the menu.

“That sounds delightful,” Roman said, grinning down at him and then at Virgil. “I’ll take one of those.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, ringing up their order. “That’ll be $11.06.”

Patton went for his wallet, but Roman pulled out his debit card with a flourish. “It’s the least a gentleman can do,” he said, the absurd pretentiousness of his statement softened by the gentle way that he smiled down at Patton. It made Virgil feel as though he were watching something intimate, private, and he averted his eyes as he took Roman’s card and swiped it.

“Oh, alright,” Patton said. “But I’ve got the tip, though! It’s tradition.”

He slipped a five dollar bill into the tip jar as Roman signed the receipt. Virgil smiled awkwardly as he took it back.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll call your name when the drinks are ready.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said. He had his black laptop case tucked under his arm, which meant that he at least would be here for several hours.

“If you go on your break, come and join us!” Patton waved before taking both of his boyfriends by their hands and tugging them off towards the table.

Virgil watched them go, a curious sensation in his chest. He stared until they reached their normal table next to the window and then hurriedly turned away before they caught him.

It was just because he’d never seen a polyamorous couple before, he told himself as he set about making their drinks. He had known that polyamory existed, of course, but he had never met anyone who identified that way. It was fascinating to see them altogether now, and Virgil suddenly found that he had a dozen questions that he could never ask them.

He finished Patton and Roman’s drinks with whipped cream and their respective garnishes, then hesitated with a glance back towards the kitchen. Jordan had called in sick today, which meant that Alice had been ordered into the back to help Kendra bake. That meant Virgil was the only one behind the counter, which meant that he couldn’t really leave, but-

But the only other customers were two businessmen who were reading the newspaper together as they sipped at their lattes. Virgil could leave for a few seconds.

He grabbed a cardboard drink tray out from under the counter and put all three drinks in. Then he slid open the dessert case and used the tongs to grab the biggest blueberry muffin off of the tray.

 _Just because he was curious_ , Virgil thought to himself as he carried the drinks and the muffin around the counter and started towards the window. And because Patton tipped so well.

God, he tipped well.

“Hi,” he said as he approached their table, because he was incredibly awkward and never said anything right. All three of them looked up in surprise as he set the drink tray carefully in the center of the table. “I thought I’d, uh, just bring them over.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Logan said with a frown.

“It’s no problem,” Virgil said. He fiddled with the muffin bag for a moment before thrusting it at Patton. Oh, god, his cheeks were probably bright red.

“What’s this?” Patton asked curiously as he took it.

“Blueberry muffin,” Virgil said. “On the house.”

“Oh, Virgil.” Patton peeked into the bag and then tilted his head up to smile softly at Virgil. It wasn’t one of his usual smiles; this one was small and full of warmth that made Virgil’s chest squeeze tight. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“It’s no big deal,” Virgil muttered. He glanced at Roman as the man lifted his drink and took a sip from it.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. He turned his gaze onto Virgil, lips tilted upward in a handsome smile. “Well,” he said. “I understand now why Patton has been gushing so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Virgil said. He looked over his shoulder at the counter to make sure there was no one waiting. “I have to- I have to go. Enjoy your drinks.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Patton said with another warm smile. Virgil smiled down at his shoes and then turned to flee, practically running back to the counter in search of safety.

It took at least twenty minutes for Virgil’s cheeks to stop feeling so warm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic depiction of abuse, self-deprecating language.

“Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh, o’er the fields we go, laughing all the way. Ha ha-” Alice raised her eyebrows at Virgil, the last ‘ha’ caught expectantly on her tongue.

Virgil rolled his eyes and said, in a voice utterly lacking in enthusiasm, “Ha.”

“Ha!” Alice threw her hands into the air and the red and green bells she was wearing as earrings jangled excitedly. Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle.

“The Christmas spirit really has you, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Duh,” Alice said. “T-minus one week until Christmas. I’ve been watching the Hallmark channel on repeat since Thanksgiving, and it’s almost my time to shine.”

“You’re definitely shining,” Virgil said, eyeing her earrings.

“You can make fun, but I’m having a tinsel filled blast over here. I didn’t get to celebrate Christmas when I was little, so I have a lot of missed time to make up for.”

“Really? Why?”

“My parents were Jehovah’s Witnesses,” Alice said. When Virgil raised his eyebrows, she said, “I know.”

“And you’re not anymore?”

“We kind of have an unspoken agreement,” Alice said. “As long as I don’t bring any of my girlfriends home, I get to celebrate my birthday.”

“That sounds… fair?”

“Not really,” Alice said. Her gaze drifted over Virgil’s shoulder and a grin spread across her face. “Incoming.”

Virgil turned to see Patton stepping through the front door. He smiled despite himself as he stepped up to the counter to greet him, doing his best to ignore Alice, who was whistling an off-key version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer behind him.

“Hi, Virgil!” Patton beamed as he walked up to the counter. “How are you doing today?”

“Christmassy,” Virgil said dryly as Alice hit a particularly shrill note.

Patton giggled, nose scrunching up in a very distracting way. “Sounds like fun,” he said. “Is it almost time for your break?”

“Actually,” Alice said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “I was just about to send him out. Hi.” Alice grinned and offered a hand to Patton. “I’m his manager.”

“You are not,” Virgil said, shrugging her off as Patton giggled again and accepted her handshake. “Go get more croissants.”

“Touchy,” Alice said. “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

“Sorry about her,” Virgil muttered, grabbing a cup as Alice disappeared into the kitchen. “I’ll make your hot chocolate.”

“She seems really nice,” Patton said, leaning across the counter to watch as Virgil started preparing his drink.

“Yeah, I guess,” Virgil said. “Completely tone deaf, though.”

“I can hear you!”

Virgil smirked at Patton as he shook the whipped cream, which made the other man laugh.

“How much?” Patton asked when Virgil handed over his finished drink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil said. “Let me go take off my apron and I’ll join you.”

He passed Alice coming out of the kitchen on his way in. She grinned over the tray of croissants she was holding. “Have fun,” she said, ears jingling as Virgil rolled his eyes.

Patton was already seated by the window when Virgil stepped back out. He poured himself a plain coffee and added in enough cream and sugar to make it palatable before going to join him.

“It’s fantastic,” Patton said when Virgil sat down across from him. He raised the drink with a smile. “Just the thing on a day like this.”

Virgil glanced out the window. It was raining pretty hard; he hoped that it lightened up later, or else he would have to walk home in it.

“It doesn’t look like we’re going to have a white Christmas,” Virgil said.

“No,” Patton said. He took a sip of his drink, and when he lowered it there was a touch of whipped cream on his nose that he rubbed away with the sleeve of his cardigan. “But you don’t have to have snow to have a white Christmas. It’s all in the mindset you have!”

“Hmm,” Virgil said. He took a sip of his coffee, wincing when it scalded his tongue. “Did you guys finish decorating the tree?”

“Yup,” Patton said. “It’s so pretty. I made popcorn garlands again this year, and Roman only ate half of them this time, so we got a few strands on the tree!”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is.” Patton’s face was glowing the way it always did when he talked about his boyfriends. Virgil felt a pinch of envy and wondered if Dee ever even mentioned him to his friends.

 _That’s not fair_ , a voice whispered in Virgil’s mind. _You’re lucky Dee even puts up with you_.

“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” Patton asked, and Virgil’s stomach dropped.

“Oh,” he said, looking down at his drink. “Well, my boyfriend’s traveling home to visit his family, so it’ll be a quiet one this year. I’ll probably just stay at home and watch Netflix.”

Patton’s cheerful smile seemed to falter and Virgil kicked himself mentally. He hadn’t meant to sound that pathetic. Patton probably thought he was absolutely pitiful.

“That sounds very relaxing,” Patton said after a moment. He reached up to brush a curl behind his ear. Virgil felt his eyes drawn to the movement and reflexively dropped his gaze, familiar guilt rising in his chest. “The best holidays tend to be the most peaceful ones, sometimes, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “I don’t really celebrate Christmas, anyways.”

“Neither do I.” Patton grinned. “I’m Jewish, but I’m a sucker for Santa Claus.”

Virgil raised his coffee to hide his smile.

“I hate to interrupt,” said a voice behind him. Virgil turned to narrow his eyes at Alice, who was standing there with a coffee-stained apron and a smirk. “But it’s my duty as your manager to tell you that your break is over, Virgil.”

“You’re not my manager,” Virgil said. He could feel the embarrassment burning up to his ears and was well aware of Patton watching the exchange.

“Bless his heart,” Alice said, shaking her head fondly at Patton. “The poor boy’s delusional. Go on, Virgil, back to work.”

Virgil raised his lips in what he hoped communicated a silent growl before turning back to Patton with an apologetic grimace.

“I don’t want to keep you,” Patton said before he could say anything. He was smiling good-naturedly, both hands wrapped around his hot chocolate. “Roman and I will stop by tomorrow!”

Before Virgil could even process that, his stomach flipped. “Okay,” he said. He stood and grabbed his coffee. “Uh… see you.”

He raised his hand in a half wave and then glanced at Alice. “Coming?”

“Ricky told me to empty the trash,” Alice said.

“Admitting you’re not in charge?”

Alice snorted. “Never. Get back to the counter, I see some old ladies about to come in.”

Patton waved cheerfully as Virgil turned and hurried away, racing the old ladies back to the register.

Alice didn’t get back from emptying the trash until after the small swarm of elderly women had received their drinks and wandered off to take up half of the tables. Virgil stared at her, unimpressed as she sidled back behind the counter.

“Some manager you are,” he said.

Alice shrugged, lips turned up in a smile. Virgil frowned, suspicions immediately raised.

“Why are you happy?” he asked. “We’re working. You should be sad.”

“I am,” Alice said, grinning as she picked up a towel and started scrubbing an already clean section of counter.

“Alice…”

“Have you thought about coming to one of my parties?”

“One of your-?” Virgil pressed his back against the counter and watched her clean. “Uh… why?”

“Because I’m having a party, dumbass. And I want you to come.”

“Oh. When?”

“Christmas Eve.”

“That feels sacrilegious somehow.”

“I told you I’m not a Jehovah’s Witness anymore. Anyways, it’s going to be very suitable to the occasion. No wine coolers, just champagne. Real classy stuff.”

“Right,” Virgil said, somehow doubting that. “Who’s coming?”

“Friends.” Alice swiped her towel half-heartedly at the other end of the counter and then dropped it, turning to face Virgil. Her dark eyes were wide with a gradually developing puppy dog look. “Come on, Virgil.”

“I don’t know,” Virgil said, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “My boyfriend’s going out of town, and-”

“All the more reason to come,” Alice said. “You don’t want to be alone on Christmas Eve, do you?”

“Well-”

“You promised that you would come to one of my parties.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“It definitely happened. Come on, Virge. Please? I really want you to come.”

She clasped her hands under her chin and jutted out her lower lip, pleading. Virgil chewed on the inside of his cheek, running through the pros and cons in his mind. He knew that Dee didn’t like it when he went out alone- he knew that Virgil wasn’t the best socially- but Alice was the closest thing that Virgil had to a friend, and he didn’t want to disappoint her again by saying no. Besides, it _would_ be nice to do something for the holidays, since Dee wasn’t going to be there.

“Alright,” he said, and couldn’t help but smile when Alice punched a fist in the air and whooped.

“Hell yeah!” she exclaimed. “Don’t worry, Virgil, we’re going to have a _great_ time.”

Virgil certainly hoped that was true.

X X X X X

Alice’s definition of classy was proving to be very loud.

Virgil had seen her briefly when she had greeted him at her front door. He was a little late, which meant the party was in full swing, which meant that she only had time to squeal loudly, pull him into a hurried hug, and direct him towards the drinks in the kitchen before she was drawn away to welcome another round of guests.

Alice’s apartment was small and probably very comfortable, but with over a dozen people packed into it it was already proving to be very stuffy. Virgil ducked his head, tugging at the hem of the plain black sweater he had thrown on, and weaved through the groups of mingling party-goers, aiming for the kitchen.

True to her word, Alice had set out several buckets of ice with champagne bottles resting in them, but most guests were clutching what looked suspiciously like wine coolers. Virgil decided to skip both of these, opting instead for a bottle of water he found shoved into the ice..

As he took a grateful sip, he gazed through the doorway into the living room. Alice had dimmed the lights, giving her apartment an almost elegant feel, but the music pulsing from the speakers would have been better suited at a college party.

The guests were a mixed bag as well. Virgil recognized none of them, but Alice had clearly miscommunicated about appropriate attire. Some were wearing button downs and nice dresses, while others were bopping to the current song in ripped jeans and baggy t-shirts. It was something of a mess, but everyone seemed to be having a good time.

Virgil could already feel anxiety creeping up his arms.

He drank more water to try and brace himself, watching without interest as a laughing couple wandered into the kitchen and snatched up a fresh bottle of champagne. He only had to stay for a little bit, just long enough for Alice to see him a few more times, and then he could slip out and go back to his empty apartment for some peace. Dee had promised to call him that day, and even though it was late in the evening Virgil was still waiting for him. Hopefully he could leave before that.

He distantly heard Alice scream out another greeting. Tucking himself into the corner of the kitchen, Virgil pulled out his phone and peered down at the screen, fingers automatically opening Tumblr. He took another sip of his water as he scrolled, doing his best to block out the steady buzz of music and chatter.

He didn’t look up until he felt a presence close to his elbow, and a low voice said, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Virgil startled, phone slipping in his hand. He caught it with the other and looked up to stare at Roman, who was grinning at him with one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised.

“Roman?”

“At your service,” Roman said. His hair shone in the dim lighting, falling in perfect waves across his forehead. He was wearing a maroon button down shirt. It was very tight on him. 

Virgil swallowed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, forcing himself to speak loud enough to be heard.

“Is this not a party?” Roman asked, looking amused.

“Yes, but-”

“I’m fetching drinks for Logan and Patton,” he said. “Will you help me?”

He didn’t wait for Virgil to respond. Virgil slipped his phone back into his pocket and followed Roman to the ice buckets like a startled puppy.

“Did Alice invite you?” Virgil asked as Roman grabbed two plastic champagne flutes out of a bag Alice had propped up on the counter.

“She invited Patton and gave him a plus two.” Roman filled the first glass, pouring slowly so the bubbles never spilled over the rim. “Would you like a drink?”

“Um- no thanks.”

Roman nodded and set the bottle down. “I don’t drink,” he said, lifting the two champagne flutes. “Sobriety is much more befitting of a gentleman, don’t you think? Besides, this way we always have a designated driver.” His teeth stood straight as a picket fence as he smiled. “Come, Patton and Logan would love to greet you!”

Virgil trailed after Roman out of the kitchen and into the crowded living room. There seemed to be several more people now, and someone had thankfully turned down the music a few notches to make conversation easier.

Virgil stared at Roman’s broad shoulders cutting easily through the crowd. His mind sifted quickly through the information that had been thrust upon him in the last few minutes- Alice had invited Patton. Patton had brought Roman and Logan. Patton and Roman and Logan were here, and this was the first time that Virgil would be seeing them outside of the coffee shop, and he had only worn his second best sweater.

He was going to have a panic attack.

“Look who I found!” Roman declared as they approached the other two. They had wrested control of an armchair shoved close to the television, with Patton curled up on it and Logan seated primly on the arm.

Patton unfolded himself and jumped to his feet, his face glowing as he threw his arms wide.

“Virgil!” Virgil stiffened as Patton wrapped him in a hug. He hardly had time to process the sensation of warm arms around him and the press of Patton’s curly hair against his cheek before Patton had pulled away again, letting one hand linger on his arm in a friendly manner. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Uh,” Virgil said. Patton was wearing a soft blue sweater with a snowman stitched on the front, and his eyes and cheeks glittered in a very distracting way when he smiled. Virgil blinked and turned instead to Logan, hoping for some reprieve, but Logan was wearing a tight button down with a dark blue tie knotted casually at his throat. When he inclined his head towards Virgil, cheekbones sharp and prominent, Virgil thought he would be sick with the sudden influx of nerves rolling through his system.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here,” he finally said.

“Wasn’t Alice so sweet to include us?” Patton bounced on the balls of his feet as though he had too much pent up energy to stay still. “It’s been so long since the three of us have gotten to go out together like this. Would you like to sit down, Virgil?”

“I’m alright,” Virgil said, clutching his water bottle with both hands. He watched as Roman handed the glasses of champagne to both Patton and Logan, leaning in to peck Patton on the cheek and then stand alongside Logan, throwing one arm affectionately around the other man’s shoulders. Logan rolled his eyes but smiled, shifting so that he was leaning against Roman.

“Oh, good, you found him!” Virgil turned to see Alice approaching. She was wearing a bright red Christmas sweater decorated with bells on the sleeves, and she jingled loudly as she grinned at them. “Glad you guys pulled him out of the kitchen.”

“Thank you again for inviting us, Alice,” Patton said as Virgil narrowed his eyes at Alice. “This is lovely!”

“Don’t mention it,” Alice said, waving her wine cooler offhandedly. Her makeup was elaborate and complete with striped red and white eyeshadow to mimic a candy cane. Her red fake eyelashes fluttered when she smiled prettily at Virgil, the picture of innocence. “Weren’t the champagne glasses a classy touch, Virge?”

“They’re plastic.”

“I know, I got them off of Amazon,” Alice said. She turned back to the other three. “So! As host, it is my hostly duty to make small talk. You already know that Virgil and I are the best barista duo since Batman and Robin. What do you three do?”

Patton laughed. “Well, Logan’s still in school,” he said, glancing towards his boyfriend with a fond expression. “He’s currently working towards his masters degree in organic chemistry.”

“Wow,” Virgil blurted out, and then winced inwardly at his awkwardness.

“Wow indeed,” Roman said. He pulled Logan closer, cheeks dimpling with a grin. “He’s going to be the biggest, handsomest nerd in the world.”

Logan pursed his lips, cheeks dappled with red. “It’s hardly wow-worthy,” he said. “I have over a year left until I graduate.”

“We’re very proud,” Patton said to Alice and Virgil. “And Roman is an outstanding actor.”

“In the movies?” Alice asked, looking excited.

“Stage, actually,” Roman said. “I work regularly at the theatre downtown.”

“I think I saw a show there once!” Alice said. “One of the Shakespeare ones, with the skull?”

“Hamlet,” Roman said. “I’m glad you saw that one, it was one of our better productions.”

“Were you in it?” Alice asked.

Roman’s grin widened. “I was Hamlet.”

“Holy shit,” Alice said. She raised her drink in a toast. “You were great, dude.”

“Why, thank you.”

They turned expectantly to Patton, who bounced on his toes and said, “Oh, I don’t do anything special. I’m a preschool teacher. Nothing very glamorous, but I love working with kids.”

Alice whistled. “You must have a lot of patience.”

“Not at all. Children are great! I can’t wait to have several of our own, right, darlings?”

Logan took a long sip of his champagne.

“Oh,” Alice said, reaching out to touch Virgil’s arm as her gaze was drawn to the other side of the room. “I think my old college roommate is flirting with a gay guy. That’s my cue to go make fun of her. Let me know if you guys need anything, alright?”

“Thanks, Alice!” Patton said brightly.

Virgil twisted his water bottle as Alice left, leaving the four of them standing in an awkward circle. He looked down at his hands.

“Your jobs are really cool,” he said to the lid of his water. “I mean- you guys all do really cool... things.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said. “How long have you been a barista?”

He knew Logan didn’t mean it as a slight, but Virgil ached with a sudden feeling of inadequacy. He had completed two years at community college before meeting and moving in with Dee, at which point he had left school to find a job and try to pull his weight in the rent payments. He was nothing at all like these people, who were wildly successful in their own rights. “I started just before Christmas last year,” he said.

“It seems like you and Alice have a good time,” Patton said.

Virgil shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

“And what does your boyfriend do?” Roman asked.

Virgil wished he had worn his hoodie. Instead, he bared his burning cheeks to the world, twisting his water bottle so tightly the plastic crinkled loudly under his fingers. “He’s a bank teller.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “How… fun.”

“That sounds lovely,” Patton said. Virgil peeked up to find him smiling encouragingly at him, and Virgil’s stomach flipped for the millionth time that night. “How long have you two been together?”

“Two years.”

“How adorable,” Patton said. “I’d love to meet him sometime!”

Virgil was saved from answering by a music change. A much slower song came on, a jazz number with low trumpets and a steady bass, and Roman straightened where he stood.

“I love this song!” he said. “Logan, dance with me?”

“Not in public,” Logan said, tapping the side of his champagne glass.

Roman sighed. Virgil almost jumped when Roman spun towards him, extending his hand with a flourish of the wrist. “Would you care to dance, Virgil?” he asked, and Virgil felt his heart stop completely in his chest.

“Oh,” he managed to say, certain that his face was completely pink. Before his brain could move quickly enough for him to formulate words, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he quickly grabbed it. “I’m so sorry,” he said, glancing at the screen. “It’s my boyfriend. Do you mind if I…”

Roman grinned good-naturedly. “But of course.”

Virgil grimaced and accepted the call, raising it to press against his ear. “Hello?”

“Merry Christmas Eve, darling.”

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Virgil said. He turned slightly, crossing his arms to create the illusion of privacy. He wasn’t sure if it would be too rude to just leave, but he couldn’t do it now, not without properly saying goodbye. “How was the wedding?”

“Dull and much too long,” Dee said. He paused. “Do I hear music?”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Yeah. I’m at a party.”

“A party?”

“Yes.”

“Whose?”

“Alice’s. My coworker.”

“On Christmas Eve?”

Roman laughed loudly at something Logan murmured to him. On the other end of the line, Dee said, “Who was that?”

“Just- a friend.”

“You don’t like parties, Virgil.”

Virgil bit his bottom lip, lowering his voice. “Is something wrong?” he asked, bewildered at the sudden tone change in the conversation.

“No, I’m simply wondering why you failed to mention that you’re celebrating Christmas Eve with… friends.”

“I forgot.”

“Are they friends you met at the party?”

“Dee, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m only here because you’re not at home.”

“So you _are_ upset with me.”

“No, Dee, I’m not- of course I’m not. Alice invited me, and I said yes. Is that… is that wrong?”

“I just thought you would give me the common courtesy of telling me where you were spending Christmas Eve. Are you spending Christmas with these friends of yours as well?”

“Of course not.”

“Hm,” Dee said. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you by leaving, but-”

“You didn’t.”

“It doesn’t sound like it.”

“No, Dee, I’m very happy that you made it to the wedding. And I’m- I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you where I was.”

“What’d you say? The music is obnoxiously loud.”

“I said I’m sorry,” Virgil said, raising his voice to be heard, and then cringed when he felt the other three turn their attention back to him. He dropped his head and listened as Dee continued speaking.

“Well,” he said. “It’s okay. Next time just tell me, alright?”

“I will.”

“Okay. I have to go and finish helping my mother with dinner now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Mhm,” Dee said, and hung up.

Virgil lowered his phone. He took a moment to stare at the screen and then shut it off, shoving it back into his pocket.

“Is everything alright, Virgil?”

Virgil looked up. Patton, Logan, and Roman were staring at him, and Virgil felt his stomach drop several stories.

“Yeah,” he said. He forced a smile, wishing that Alice would turn the music down. He was starting to develop a headache.

“We were just discussing what we would bring to a deserted island,” Roman said. His expression was pleasant, but there was a crease between his eyebrows that made something in Virgil want to ball up and panic. They had heard him, they had heard the whole thing, they knew he was a rotten boyfriend who disappointed people and made things unnecessarily difficult and they would never want to speak to him again.

“Cool,” Virgil said, feeling his breath catch in his chest. He needed to leave, needed to get out because it was too hot and crowded and Logan’s gaze on him suddenly felt like it would choke him if he stood there a moment longer. “I, um- I just remembered that I have to- I have to leave.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, kiddo? You look a little pale.” Patton reached out to touch Virgil’s elbow, his eyes concerned, and Virgil dropped his water bottle. He cursed and crouched down, snatching it up with shaking hands.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Could you tell Alice I left?”

“Of course,” Logan said.

“Thanks,” Virgil said. He gripped his water bottle, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the floor, unable to look at any of them. _Pathetic he was pathetic what was he doing this is weird weird weird!_ “Bye.”

Before they could say anything else, he turned and scurried away. He pressed through the crowd, knocking into drinks and causing spills, and people muttered angrily as he shoved through to the door. He yanked on the doorknob and threw himself out into the hall, slamming the door shut behind him.

The silence was abrupt and suffocating. Virgil could still hear the music from behind the closed door, could still feel the press of too many eyes on him, but he was alone. He was alone, and his hands were shaking, and his vision blurred as he turned and retraced his steps back to the stairwell.

It was drizzling outside. Virgil sniffed and wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his head down against the rain as he walked. The water clung to his hair, soaking him within seconds, making him feel heavy with damp and utter humiliation. First, he had upset Dee, all because he had been too stupid to remember to tell him where he was going that night. Then, he had embarrassed himself in front of Patton, Roman, and Logan, and they would probably never want to speak to him ever again.

Virgil blinked, letting the drops of rain caught in his lashes fall free. He didn’t care. He hardly knew them, anyways. He would go home and think of some way to make this up to Dee, and he would forget that any of this had ever happened.

X X X X X

“Small mocha for Karen,” Virgil called, setting the drink on the counter. He turned before it was claimed, snatching up the next drink he was making and glancing at the order.

“Virgil,” Alice said as soon as she had given the appropriate change to the customer she was serving. “It’s noon.”

“So?” Virgil asked, pouring coffee into the cup and grabbing a lid.

“It’s time for your lunch break.”

“I don’t need one.” Virgil set the drink down and said, “Medium coffee for Richard!”

“You’re not skipping your lunch break.”

“I always skip my lunch break. Besides, you need the help.” Virgil reached for the next cup, but Alice snatched it up before he could grab it. Virgil scowled at her. She gazed coolly back.

“You’re working an eight hour shift,” she said. “I can handle myself while you go and take a break. At least go sleep for an hour or something.”

Virgil could have screamed. It was New Year’s Day, and even though he had been up  most of the night drinking with Dee, he felt too jittery to rest. Perhaps it was the triple espresso he had downed this morning to cut through his hangover.

“Fine,” he said, when Alice continued to stare him down and showed no signs of relenting. He reached back to grudgingly untie his apron. “I’m coming back in thirty minutes, though.”

“See you in an hour,” Alice said as Virgil slipped through the curtain.

Virgil hung his apron up and, after a moment, decided to stop by his locker to grab his wallet. Maybe he would get himself a bag of chips somewhere. It would at least give him something to do.

Virgil pulled out his phone as he left the kitchen. He had a new message from Dee asking him to pick up more milk before he got home. Virgil was wondering idly if he should get it now and store it in the kitchen freezer until after his shift when he realized that there was someone standing in front of him.

He looked up and blinked at Roman.

“Oh,” Virgil said, startled, his thumb frozen above his phone. “Uh, hey.”

“Hello,” Roman said. He was wearing a simple denim jacket and jeans today, looking casual but put together. Virgil was thrown off by his friendly grin. “I was just about to come and order another of your delightful lattes, but it appears that you are on your way out.”

“I’m on my lunch break,” Virgil said. “But, uh, Alice can help you out with your drink.”

“Your lunch break? What a marvelous coincidence- I was just about to get lunch myself! Would you care to join me?”

Virgil was surprised. He had only seen Patton once since Christmas Eve, and their conversation had been a little bit awkward, so he had assumed that he had done irreparable damage after fleeing from the party. He was confused as to why Roman had come alone, which he had never done before, and by his warm greeting.

“You don’t have to,” Virgil said.

“Nonsense. I know of this delightful little sandwich place just down the street that shouldn’t be too busy. I would love the company.”

Virgil hesitated a moment longer before agreeing, because he truly did feel bad about how rude he had been. As he left he glanced over his shoulder to find Alice watching him. When they made eye contact, she grinned and gave him a thumbs up that left him frowning.

Virgil recognized the restaurant just a few buildings down from the coffee shop as Roman pulled open the door for him. He passed it everyday, but he had never gone in because it was a little too expensive for him. He could feel his wallet burning in his pocket as he and Roman stepped up to the counter to order.

“An Italian sandwich for me, please,” Roman said to the woman behind the counter. He flashed her a grin that made her giggle as she punched in the order. “And you, Virgil?”

“Um,” Virgil said, scanning the menu for the cheapest thing. “Just the garden salad for me.”

“That’ll be $19.38, please.”

Virgil reached for his wallet, but Roman waved his hand and said, “I’ve got this.”

“What?” Virgil stared as Roman handed over his card and the woman swiped it. “No, please, that’s okay.”

“It’s my treat,” Roman said. “Besides, what’s the point of being a successful actor if you don’t get to woo people with your charm once in a while?” He winked at the woman as he signed off on a generous tip.

“We’ll bring it to your table when it’s ready,” she said with a smile.

Virgil hung his head, humiliated by nothing and everything at the same time. He knew that Roman was just trying to be kind, but he didn’t understand _why_ when Virgil had been so rude on Christmas Eve. He had never even apologized for leaving so abruptly, not even when Patton had come in the other day.

“This alright?” Roman asked, stopping in front of a table in the corner of the room. Virgil just nodded and sat down across from him.

“How was your New Year’s?” Roman asked, crossing his leg under the table and leaning back in his seat.

“Fine,” Virgil said. “It’s always nice to wake up with a hangover and have to go into work.”

Roman laughed. “Partied a bit too hard?”

“No, I just stayed in with my boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

“What did you guys do?” Virgil asked, twiddling his thumbs nervously under the table.

“We went to a small gathering at a friend’s house,” Roman said. “It was very elegant. I wore a suit, Logan brought his laptop to work on a paper assignment, and Patton got tipsy off of champagne and wandered around trying to give everyone a hug.”

Virgil snorted. “That sounds… nice.”

“It was,” Roman said.

The waiter arrived with their food. Virgil thanked him quietly as he set the small salad in front of him.

“You know, it’s very convenient to have your coffee shop so close to the theatre I work out of,” Roman said as he picked up his sandwich. “It’s just a few blocks away.”

“Are you working on a show right now?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. It opens in two months. I’m playing the lead, of course- a dashing prince who is a little clueless in matters of the heart, but is ultimately successful.”

“You play a prince?” Virgil asked.

“Fitting, isn’t it?”

“Actually, yes,” Virgil said. He picked up his fork and poked at a piece of lettuce. “Is it fun being an actor?”

“It’s wonderfully rewarding,” Roman said. “You know, you should come and see my show when it opens. I can get you a complimentary VIP ticket.”

“Really?” Virgil looked up from his salad, startled. “Me?”

“Of course,” Roman said, grinning over his sandwich. “Who else would I invite except for the man that’s been fueling my boyfriend’s hot chocolate addiction for the past few months?”

“That’s… really cool of you,” Virgil said. He set down his fork even though he hadn’t eaten anything and frowned at it for a moment. If Roman was going to continue being so nice to him- for whatever reason he was doing it for- Virgil could at least try and apologize. “Um… I just wanted to say sorry again for leaving so abruptly at the party.”

“What?” Roman frowned. “Oh, goodness. Don’t apologize for that. It’s completely fine that you had to go. I hope everything was alright.”

Virgil smiled uncomfortably at his meal. “It was, thanks.”

“Virgil… pardon me if I’m intruding at all,” Roman said. Virgil looked up to see him delicately setting down his half-eaten sandwich. “I truly don’t mean to overstep, but I must ask- you did seem rather… upset after your phone call. Did something happen with your boyfriend?”

“No,” Virgil said, stomach souring.

“Are you certain? We were rather concerned when you left.”

“I’m sure. And I’m sorry if I… concerned you.”

“Virgil.” Roman leaned forward. He truly was very handsome; even when he was looking at Virgil like that, with his lips drawn with what Virgil could only read as worry, Virgil still felt his heart skip a beat. He clenched his fist guiltily under the table. “We consider you a friend, and I hope that you think of us similarly. I want you to know that you can come to us for whatever you need.”

Virgil frowned, choosing to ignore the very confusing friendship aspect of his statement (they hardly knew him, why would they want to be friends with him?). “What would I need?”

“I don’t know,” Roman said. “I just wanted to extend the invitation, if it should be necessary.”

“That’s very… considerate,” Virgil said, generally confused about the direction this conversation had gone in. “But everything’s fine.”

“That’s good to hear,” Roman said. His cheeks dimpled when he smiled. “Now, I simply must vent for a moment about the rousing match of Cards Against Humanity we played last night.”

“Oh yeah? Who won?”

“Patton,” Roman said. When Virgil gaped at him, he rolled his eyes and said, “It’s only because he doesn’t fully understand what most of the cards mean, so he just throws them out there.”

“That’s infuriating.”

“Incredibly so,” Roman said. “But I have an inkling that you might be just the match for him.”

Virgil leaned back in his seat, raising his eyebrows. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked, his voice theatrically low, and Roman chuckled.

“We’re having a game night on Friday,” he said. “Would you care to join us?”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Roman said.

Virgil hesitated. He heard Dee’s voice in his ear, telling him that these people didn’t know him, didn’t want to be his friend, they wouldn’t want to be his friend even if they _did_ know him.

It startled Virgil, because Dee had never said anything of the sort to him.

Roman was still waiting for an answer. He and his partners seemed to be trying to get to know Virgil further for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom. And if they were willing to put the effort in to try and form some kind of friendship with him…

“Alright,” Virgil said, unable to keep from grinning. “I’m in.”

X X X X X

“I think that I’m the best prepared to take on the position. I haven’t been there as long as most, but I- yes. Uh huh.”

Virgil rubbed lazy circles into Dee’s dinner plate with the sponge. He listened idly to Dee’s phone call behind him as he finished up the last of the dishes, holding the plate under the sink to rinse off the soap.

“I know. Well, I’m glad we see eye to eye. Alright. Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dee sighed loudly as he hung up. Virgil glanced over his shoulder to see his boyfriend pinching his nose, looking very tense.

“Everything alright?” Virgil asked.

“Yes,” Dee said. He set his phone down on the counter and crossed his arms, scowling at the wall. “A position just opened up in the bank, and I’m trying to put my name in for the promotion. I haven’t worked there very long, but I’m the best fit for the job.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it, Dee.”

“I know,” Dee said. “We could really use the extra money. We’re getting by, but rent isn’t going to get any cheaper, and with you still at the coffee shop…”  
Virgil turned off the sink, looking worriedly at his boyfriend. “Dee…”

Dee waved a hand at him. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “I make enough to support us for right now, but it would be very useful to be a bit higher up in the bank.”

Virgil set down the glass he was holding and grabbed the dish towel, drying his hands. Dropping it back on the counter, he moved around the kitchen island to approach Dee, who didn’t look up as he got closer.

“Hey,” Virgil said. He reached out and touched Dee’s shoulder, giving him a small smile when he finally looked at him. “You’re doing great.”

Dee sighed and opened his arms. Virgil folded himself into them, burying his face in Dee’s neck, taking a deep breath to soak in the familiar scent of their laundry detergent. Dee’s hands were on his waist, touching his lower back, and a moment later he pulled back to press a kiss to Virgil’s lips.

“Tell you what,” Dee whispered after a moment. He pressed his forehead to Virgil’s and Virgil closed his eyes, smiling into the closeness. “I’m going to go change out of my work clothes. You finish up the dishes and pour us a drink, and we can have some fun tonight. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said, brushing his fingers along Dee’s jaw.

Dee kissed his forehead and pulled away. Virgil watched him go with a smile, and then went back to grab the glass he had left by the sink so he could put it away.

Virgil jumped when something buzzed loudly. He looked around for a moment before spotting Dee’s phone still lying on the counter. The screen was lit up with a text message, and as Virgil moved towards the cabinet, he glanced at it absentmindedly.

An unfamiliar contact name caught his eye and he paused, turning to look at it more closely.

**Dallas (9:04 PM): miss u babe <3**

“What the hell was that?” Dee’s raised voice carried all the way through their apartment. Virgil slowly looked down to see the shattered glass on the floor. He had dropped the cup, let it slip through his numb fingers, and he stared at it now without feeling.

When Dee burst back into the room wearing pajama pants and nothing else, he looked from Virgil to the mess on the floor with an outraged look on his face. “Virgil, what the hell are you doing?”

“Dallas,” Virgil said, his voice so quiet he couldn’t even hear it himself.

Dee rolled his eyes. “What have I said about mumbling, Virgil? Speak up or-”

“Dallas,” Virgil repeated. He looked at his own bare feet, at the pieces of glass sprinkled around his toes. They were large and jagged, like sharp, twisted snowflakes. “Who’s Dallas?”

He looked up at Dee, briefly, and the look on his face- wide eyed, caught- was enough to confirm his fears.

Virgil couldn’t even bring himself to feel surprised.

He blinked twice, and then knelt down, reaching out for the largest shard, and then the next largest. Cleaning, slowly, his mind sluggish and trembling.

“Virgil, it’s not what you think.”

Virgil picked up the broken pieces with one hand and held them in the other, moving his fingers gingerly so as not to cut himself. His entire body felt chilled. If he stopped cleaning, if he stopped having something to focus on, he was pretty sure he would shatter just like the glass.

“Virgil, will you please talk to me?”

Virgil ducked his head down, checking if any pieces had gone under the chairs.

“Don’t fucking ignore me.”

Dee grabbed his shoulder and Virgil flinched so badly he dropped the glass. He slowly raised his head to find Dee glaring, crouched in front of him with his eyes narrowed.

“We need to talk,” he said. He didn’t look guilty now. He just looked angry.

“I don’t want to,” Virgil whispered. Dee’s grip on his shoulder was starting to hurt, but he didn’t dare try and get out of it. It was never a good idea to fight back when Dee was in one of his moods.

“What was that?”

“I don’t want to talk, Dee.”

“Then what the hell do you want to do? Ignore me?”

When Virgil didn’t respond, Dee made a disgusted noise and let go of him roughly. Virgil, knocked off balance, put his hand down on the floor to catch himself.

“You need to clean up this glass you dropped,” Dee said as he stood up. He nudged a piece of glass with his toe, still scowling. “Then, whenever you’re ready, we can have a civilized conversation about this.”

“About how you’ve been cheating?” Virgil asked, slowly rising to his feet.

Dee rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge.”

Virgil shook his head, bringing up his hands to press them to his face. He could feel himself starting to tremble. His brain felt as though it were fading out slowly. It was like falling asleep, except he was already in a nightmare, and he was scared of how much deeper he could sink into it. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t do it anymore, Dee, I can’t- I can’t live like this.” It was suddenly too much- the phantom press of Dee’s fingers on his shoulder, the chilling amount of sense it all made. He had felt Dee drifting, but he had always assumed it had been his own fault. It probably still was, in a way.

“You’re not letting me explain.”

“I don’t want you to explain.” Virgil pressed his fingers against his eyes. He wished he could go back in time and tear them out before he ever looked at Dee’s phone screen. “I want-”

“What?”

Virgil didn’t respond. He heard Dee step closer and felt his shoulders reflexively hunch in an attempt to make himself smaller.

“You want what, Virgil?” Dee’s voice was low. Virgil slowly lowered his shaking fingers to find Dee just inches from him, his face twisted with anger. “What do you want, Virgil? Are you gonna try and leave? Do you want out?”

“Dee,” Virgil whispered, fear leaping into his throat, but Dee just snorted.

“I’m the best you can get, and you know that,” Dee said. “God, I do- I do so fucking much for you, Virgil. I’ve put up with so much. First, you thought you could somehow manage to put yourself through school working a minimum wage job with no one to support you financially, and now that you finally have a real job you don’t even make a _quarter_ of what we need to pay the rent.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“Yes, it is!” Dee stepped closer, glass moving beneath their feet. “It’s always about that, Virgil! You act like you don’t even love me-”

“I do.”

“Then show it!” Dee reached out and shoved Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil stumbled back, hand coming out to grab at the counter even as a sharp pain split the bottom of his foot. He hissed and looked down, lifting his foot to see blood already coming from a sharp cut on his heel.

Virgil sucked in a sharp breath, vision blurring at the edges. Dee pulled a face, lips twisting with distaste. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re about to have one of your fucking panic attacks again,” he said. “I’m so sick of you using them as an excuse to get out of conversations.”

“I’m- not,” Virgil said, even as he felt tears welling in his eyes.

“You’re not? Then why are you already crying?” Dee stepped forward and jabbed a finger at Virgil’s cheek, his touch mocking. Virgil reflexively slapped it away.

Before he could register his mistake, Dee had him pressed against the counter with his hand wrapped around Virgil’s jaw. Virgil gasped and reached up to try and pull at Dee’s arm, but Dee was stronger than him. He always had been.

“Don’t hit me,” Dee growled, his face so close that Virgil could feel his breath enveloping him.

“Dee,” Virgil choked out, hanging onto the arm holding him down. Dee’s fingers had curled partly around his jaw, partly around his neck, and there was enough pressure there for Virgil to feel his already quickened breaths being cut shorter. Dee kept Virgil pinned to the counter with the weight of his body, pressing close so that Virgil’s lower back arched painfully against the linoleum.

“I am so… sick of you, Virgil,” Dee said in his face. “I’m sick and tired of having to pull your weight and get nothing in return- look at me!”

Dee tightened his fingers and Virgil gasped. He could feel the adrenaline he always felt during his panic attacks flooding into his veins, his heart rate quickening as his fight or flight response kicked in. He had to do something thing, quickly, before he passed out.

Even though he knew it wouldn’t work, Virgil lashed out, swinging his fist towards Dee’s face. It missed and hit his shoulder, and a moment later Virgil was awarded with a hard backhand to his left cheek.

Virgil choked on a cry of pain and tried to reach for his face, shutting his eyes against the sudden pain. Dee growled and shoved him away, hard enough that Virgil fell over and collapsed onto his hands and knees. The ground felt like ice under his sweaty palms.

“Clean this shit up,” Dee said, standing over Virgil as Virgil heaved and tried to catch his breath on the floor. “I’m going out for a drink.”

Virgil rested his forehead against the floor, listening as Dee walked away. His throat ached and the entire left side of his face stung and his eyes hurt when he tried to open them. Virgil remained where he was, huddled on the ground, until he heard the front door slam and lock behind Dee, and even then he stayed where he was for what must have been half an hour. His brain was frozen, stuck on a loop of repeating images- the text message, Dee’s face, hands on him all over him pushing until he couldn’t breathe-

Virgil lifted his head. He had cried so much that his face felt sticky, but the pain in his face had settled into just a dull ache and his foot only throbbed every minute or so.

He gingerly pushed himself up, wincing when his hand gave a surprising bite of pain. He glanced at it to find a sticky mess of blood, and beneath it a cut he must have gotten from the glass. There was probably blood everywhere.

Virgil pulled himself to his feet with the help of the counter. He waited on shaky legs until he felt stable enough to walk, and then stood there, trying to clear his mind enough to think.

He had to clean himself up. He swallowed and started towards the bathroom, walking gingerly on his injured foot. Once there, he turned on the light, looked at himself in the mirror, and gagged, stomach turning.

There was blood all over one side of his face; he must have smeared it there from his hand. Virgil grimaced and turned on the tap, sticking his injured hand under and squeezing his eyes shut at the sting, unwilling to look at the dirty water.

He made slow work of cleaning the blood off his face, and when he was done the towel was spotted with rusty stains. Virgil sat down heavily on the toilet lid and lifted his foot, tilting his head to look at it. It didn’t look like a deep cut, but it was long and covered in slowly drying blood. Virgil washed it off as well.

They had basic medical supplies in the cabinet. Virgil dug them out and spread disinfectant onto his cuts with shaking hands, and then went through half the box of band-aids creating a patchwork bandage to spread over them.

When he was finished, he stood and looked at himself in the mirror again. He turned his head left and right, letting the ugly welt on his cheek catch the light. His upper cheek and eyelid were red, and he was certain that it would leave an awful bruise.

Virgil turned away and flicked the light switch off. There was no helping that right now.

He limped back to the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. Getting onto his knees, he slowly raked the broken glass up, moving his fingers gingerly so as not to cut himself again. When he was pretty sure he had everything he dropped the whole towel in the trash can and shoved it away.

His throat was aching, but Virgil left the kitchen without a glass of water. When he reached the sofa he fell on it, bringing his legs up to curl underneath him. He leaned his head back on the headrest and stared up at the ceiling.

He didn’t know if Dee would come home tonight. While Virgil ached for some kind of explanation, an apology, a resolution to whatever had just happened, a tiny, frightened part of him prayed to whatever was out there that Dee found someone else to be with tonight.

Virgil shut his eyes, head throbbing with confusion. He never thought he’d see the day that he wished his boyfriend would sleep with someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you all so much for the positive response on the first chapter! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story so far, and I hope you have a great day :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: physical abuse, emotional manipulation, attempted rape.

“Holy fucking-”

“Language,” Virgil muttered, shoving past Alice to reach for the cup she had just set out.

He had gotten to work fifteen minutes late that morning after accidentally sleeping in. Dee hadn’t been in the apartment when he had woken up, and Virgil had squandered several precious minutes searching through each of the rooms for some sign that he had come home that night and finding none.

“Virgil,” Alice said, stepping in front of him. She raised a hand to hover just above his cheek, biting her lower lip. “What happened?”

“I slipped in the shower,” Virgil said, turning away. “I’m fine.”

“It looks awful!”

“Thanks.”

“And- what’s this?” Alice grabbed at his wrist, and Virgil grit his teeth as she examined the shoddy bandage work he had done. She raised her eyes to his. “Shower?”

“Yes,” Virgil said, and yanked his hand away. His eyes felt sore with exhaustion, his body hurt all over, and he wasn’t in the mood to answer questions about any of it. “I told you, I’m _fine_.”

“You shouldn’t have come in today.” Alice followed him to the coffee machine.

“Yeah, well, I need a paycheck.”

“But-”

“Will you drop it, Alice?” Virgil glared at the cup as coffee filtered into it, the dark liquid slapping against the paper sides of the container. He could feel the heat burning through it, and had a brief urge to shove his hand under the flow, let it pool around his fingers and singe the bandages.

When he turned around Alice was still watching him, bright red lips pursed with displeasure.

“Okay,” she said after he had given the drink to an older lady who stared openly at his face. “But please let me know if you need anything.”

Virgil just grunted and turned away from her, feigning interest in the cappuccino machine.

Virgil had a long shift today, which he was grateful for. Although his already bruising face garnered him too much attention and his foot ached with every step, he was glad of the excuse to stay away from his apartment for as long as possible. The idea of another confrontation with Dee made his hands seize while he was scooping ice or stirring in syrups, and Virgil spent most of his day carefully controlling his breathing so as not to have an attack. Thankfully, Alice let the matter drop after her offer for help, and spent the rest of the day trying to cheer Virgil up with jokes that didn’t land right.

When the door opened halfway through the day, Virgil looked up to see a familiar, neatly brushed head of hair approaching. Without thinking he dropped down, crouching behind the counter with one hand braced against the floor. Alice, who had been refilling the caramel syrup dispenser, frowned at him before looking up at the register. She dropped the caramel container on the counter with a dull thud.

“Oh, hey, Logan!” Her voice came out a pitch higher than usual. “What can I get for you?”

“Black coffee, please,” Logan said. Virgil pressed himself against the lower shelves, praying that Logan couldn’t hear his pounding heart. “Is Virgil in today?”

“He’s, uh-” Alice’s wide eyes dropped towards Virgil, and Virgil vehemently shook his head. “Out! Sick,” Alice said, face crinkling with feigned sympathy. “Yeah, he has- pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia,” Logan repeated.

“Pneumonia,” Alice agreed. “Well, let me- I can grab your coffee real quick, and we can send you on your way!”

She grabbed a cup and scurried to the other end of the counter. Virgil shifted, his knees already stiff from crouching down.

Movement above drew his attention back to the register, and then Logan said in a low voice, “Any specific reason you’re hiding on the floor, Virgil?”

Virgil bit back a groan. Resigned, he grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled himself to his feet, keeping his face resolutely angled downwards as he rose. He felt Logan’s eyes on him like a hot brand.

“Oh,” Logan said. Virgil peeked up to find the other man staring, his lips parted in surprise. “I see.”

“Virgil!” Alice hurried over with coffee in hand. Her gaze moved back and forth between Logan and Virgil. “What are you doing here? You have… pneumonia!”  
“Thanks, Alice,” Virgil said with a sigh. “I can ring him up.”

She grimaced apologetically and set the coffee down on the counter, then moved away to go back to the syrups.

“That’ll be $2.15,” Virgil said, pressing buttons on the register.

Logan handed him three dollars. “Pardon my prying,” he said as Virgil counted out his change. “But what exactly happened to your face?”

“Accident,” Virgil said. He held out the coins. Logan accepted them and then slid them into the tip jar. “Thanks.”

“What kind of accident could do… that?”

“A bad one,” Virgil said. He didn’t want to be cross with Logan, as the man had never been anything but polite to him, but Virgil wasn’t in the mood to answer questions. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No,” Logan said. He picked up his coffee and readjusted his laptop case under his arm. “Have you iced it?”

“Iced it?”

“Put an ice pack on it.”

“No.”

“That will help with the swelling,” Logan said. His smile was small and forced. It looked unnatural.

“Thanks,” Virgil said. “Are you still working on that paper?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I plan on being here awhile.”

“Let me know if I can get you anything.”

“You as well, Virgil,” Logan said. His brow furrowed into a frown, then smoothed out again. He nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and walked away.

“He’s odd,” Alice said. She was watching Logan go while she screwed the lid back on the caramel sauce. “Super hot, but odd.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. He couldn’t deny either of those descriptors.

X X X X X

Virgil’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced down to see that Patton had sent him yet another picture of a puppy. This time, it was wearing an astronaut’s helmet, and Patton followed it up with a text that read “I think you’re out of this world!”

Virgil smiled at it, then nearly dropped his phone when he heard the front door opening. He quickly set it down on the counter and turned in his seat to watch as Dee nudged his way through the door.

“Oh,” he said, pausing when he noticed Virgil. He let the door slowly swing shut behind him. “Hello, Virgil.”

“Hi,” Virgil said, disappointed when his voice came out quieter than he wanted.

Dee dropped his bag by the couch and walked towards the kitchen. Virgil swiveled to watch as he opened the fridge and grabbed a can of beer.

“Do you think we could- not drink tonight?” Virgil asked.

“It looks like you’re going to want to have some kind of difficult conversation, and I don’t want to be sober for it,” Dee said. He popped open his drink and raised it to his lips.

“Right,” Virgil said. “That’s- that’s okay.”

“Are you ready to actually speak to me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Dee took another swig and set his can down on the counter. He leaned forward on his elbows and raised one sharp eyebrow at Virgil. “I am not cheating on you, Virgil.”

“But-”

“The text you read was a flirtatious one, yes,” Dee said. “It was from an old boyfriend from high school that I ran into when I went back home. I attempted to instigate a friendly rapport with him, for the sake of nostalgia, and he must have mistaken my intentions. I have ceased conversation with him, yet he has continued to send the occasional solicitation. I don’t respond to them.”

“Then why-”

“Would you like to look through my phone?” Dee reached into his pocket and held it up. “If you distrust me that much, you may go through our text thread to fact check me.”

It was tempting, but Virgil could see the hurt in Dee’s eyes, and it sent guilt in a wash of nausea curling through him. He could feel the resolve he had carefully bit up all day crumbling, flaking off of him like the crust of a croissant.

“That’s okay,” Virgil whispered. “I believe you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a first,” Dee said. He put his phone away and looked at Virgil shrewdly. Then he turned, opened the freezer, and pulled out a blue ice pack. “For your face,” he said, tossing it onto the counter. “It looks awful.”

Virgil raised it to his cheek and ducked his head. Hot shame swirled in him. He felt awful, disgusted with himself for not trusting Dee when he had never been anything but wonderful to him.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Dee said. “Things went too far, but I was… hurt by your accusations, and your unwillingness to listen to my explanation.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Dee said. “I would like to move past this, if you are willing.”

“Yes,” Virgil said. He dropped his hand and looking up, hope growing once again. He searched Dee’s face for some sign that he was telling the truth, that everything wasn’t ruined, that they could go back to the way things were. “Yes, oh, please, Dee-”

Dee opened his arms in invitation, and Virgil hurried out of his seat, rushed around the counter, and threw himself into them.

“There, there,” Dee said, hand coming up to cup the back of Virgil’s head. Virgil closed his eyes, soaking in the comfort of being wrapped in Dee’s arms. “It’s alright, I forgive you.”

After several moments, Dee pulled away and smiled down at him. “Now,” he said. “I do believe we have an episode of Friends to watch.”

X X X X X

“Why do we need so many apples?” Virgil asked, looking down at the list.

“Because I like them,” Dee said. He was leaning against their half-full cart, checking his cuticles idly. “Get the red ones, please.”

“Alright,” Virgil said. He grabbed a bag and moved to the apples, grabbing several red ones and tossing them in.

“What are you making for dinner tonight?” Dee asked, pushing the cart along behind Virgil as he moved over to look at onions.

“I was thinking pasta,” Virgil said, picking one up and checking it. “How does that sound?”

“Anything’s lovely if it’s made by you.”

Virgil looked over his shoulder to smile at Dee. He felt exhilarated by the day already. It was Sunday, and he had managed to persuade Dee to join him in the weekly shopping. Dee hadn’t come to get groceries with him in months- he was normally too busy, but he had been making more of an effort to spend time with Virgil since the incident last week. Virgil was grateful that his actions seemed to be entirely forgiven, and was intent on putting it all behind them. It felt as though their relationship had been reinvigorated in a way.

“Virgil!”

Virgil turned to see a familiar pair weaving through the produce towards him. Another smile light up his face in greeting.

“Hey,” he greeted Patton and Roman, who were pushing a cart between the two of them. “Shopping day for you as well?”

“It’s a never-ending battle,” Roman said, sighing dramatically. He had curled his hair to the other side, which made his face look freshly attractive. “We are here for baking supplies.”

“I’m going to make an apple pie,” Patton said, beaming at him. His eyelids glittered a deep golden color under the harsh fluorescent lights, and Virgil nodded at him appreciatively.

“Cool eyeshadow,” he said, and Patton brightened further.

“Thank you so much!” he said. “I raided Roman’s stage makeup kit this morning.”

“Yes, you look lovely, dear,” Roman said, touching Patton’s hand with a fond smile. His eyes wandered past Virgil, over his shoulder, and his smile hardened, just a bit. “Hello.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, turning to find Dee staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, sorry- this is my boyfriend, Dee. Dee, this is Patton and Roman.”

Dee’s glare evaporated as he turned a charming grin on the two. “Lovely to meet you,” he said, teeth gleaming.

“Likewise,” Roman said.

A tense silence fell over the produce section. Virgil looked from Dee to Roman to find the two staring at each other. He frowned in confusion, not entirely certain what was going on.

“You asked for evaporated milk,” said an approaching voice. It was Logan, who frowned down at a can he was holding. “I checked the dairy aisle, but could not find it. An employee directed me to the baking supplies and handed me this can. Is a can alright, or do we need freshly evaporated milk?” He looked up and blinked at the group in front of him. His eyes alighted on Virgil. “Virgil! Your face looks improved.”

“Thanks.”

“And who is this?” Dee asked, tilting his head to one side and smiling pleasantly at Logan.

“This is Logan. Our boyfriend,” Roman said.

“Ah,” Dee said. “There are… three of you.”

“Yup!” Patton smiled brightly. His cheeks were pinker than usual; he must have gotten into Roman’s blush as well. “You two are welcome to join us for some freshly baked pie tonight, if you’d like.”

“No thank you,” Dee said before Virgil could respond. “We’re having dinner together.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Patton said. “Well, I’ll bring a few slices by the coffee shop tomorrow, Virgil! Are you working your usual shift?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. Dee continued to look at Roman, teeth bared in a broad smile, and Roman stared just as forcefully back. Virgil wasn’t sure what the energy in this conversation was, but it was making him nervous for some reason. He could already feel his earlier positivity dissipating.

“We should be going, Virgil,” Dee said, finally looking away from Roman. When he met Virgil’s gaze, his smile was flat, and Virgil’s stomach twisted. “We still have a whole list to get through.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. He turned around to give small smiles to the other three. “See you guys later.”

“Bye, Virgil,” Patton said, beaming at him. Logan nodded, and Roman simply looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.

When Virgil rejoined Dee at the cart, he was surprised when Dee brought his arm around Virgil’s shoulders. They walked side by side out of the produce section and towards the other aisles, Dee pushing the cart with one hand and tucking Virgil close by his side with the other.

“How do you know those people?” Dee asked as they wheeled their way into the cereal aisle.

“They’re regulars at the shop,” Virgil said.

“They wouldn’t happen to be who you spent Christmas Eve with, are they?”

“They are, actually. I mean, they were at Alice’s party.”

“Hmm…” Dee scanned the shelves and pointed. “Grab a box of those, will you?”

Virgil slipped out from Dee’s grip and picked up the box. As he put it in the cart, Dee said, “They have a rather unusual relationship.”

“They’re polyamorous,” Virgil said. He pulled their crumpled list out from his pocket and looked at it, mentally categorizing what they’d already gotten.

“Unusual.”

“Not really. Loads of people are polyamorous.”

“Are they?” Dee pushed the cart alongside Virgil as they headed up the aisle. “Well. Ensure that you make it clear to them that our relationship is strictly monogamous.”

Virgil stopped walking and turned to frown at Dee. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“They’re not… it’s not like that.” Virgil smiled a bit, uncertain of whether Dee was joking or not. Judging by his serious expression, he wasn’t. “We’re just friends.”

“Hmm,” Dee said again. “Just be careful, Virgil.”

“Dee, there’s nothing going on. They’re just customers of mine.”

“Who you spent Christmas Eve with.”

“Dee-”

“It’s alright, Virgil,” Dee said. He set off along the aisle again, lazily looking at the shelves, and Virgil hurried to catch up. “I trust you. I just know that you can be a bit slow when it comes to social situations.”

“I am not,” Virgil said, cheeks warming up.

“It’s okay, dear,” Dee said. He turned to smile at him. “I still love you. Now, come on. We should get pasta for tonight, yes?”

X X X X X

“I win,” Patton said, giddily laying down his last green card. Roman scowled and threw his stack of cards on the table while Logan simply sighed and shuffled his own.

“Yet again,” he said.

“Another round!” Roman said.

“It’s getting late,” said Patton, gathering up the cards. He smiled at Virgil and held his hand out to accept his stack. “Plus, Virgil looks a little tired.”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said, his credibility undermined when he failed to suppress a yawn.

“Bedtime for all of us, I think.” Patton put the cards back in the box and stood up, stretching his arms up over his head. Logan got to his feet as well, ducking in to press a kiss to Patton’s cheek. As Patton giggled, Virgil averted his eyes, trying to respect their privacy.

“Thanks for having me over,” he said as he stood. He had joined them for several game nights now, and he was still startled each time that they invited him back. He was glad, of course; he always had a wonderful time, even if Roman had proven himself to be the sorest loser there ever was.

“I’ll drive you home,” Roman said, getting over his loss of the night surprisingly quickly.

“That’s okay,” Virgil said. “I can walk just fine.”

“It’s far too late for that,” Roman said. “Please, I insist.”

Virgil’s foot had mostly healed by now, but it was still a little bit sore, so he grudgingly accepted Roman’s offer. He turned away from Patton and Logan to follow Roman to the door before he could fully notice the concerned looks they were shooting each other.

“Roman, can I have a word with you?” Logan asked as Roman pulled on a dark red jacket.

“Gotta take Virgil home,” Roman said, flashing his winning smile at him. He leaned in and pecked Logan on the lips. “I’ll be back soon, loves.”

“Bye, Virgil,” Patton said, hugging the game box to his chest. Virgil gave him a small wave as he and Roman walked into the hall.

Roman whistled as they took the empty stairs down. He spun his keys around his finger, pulling open the door at the bottom and bowing deeply.

“After you, good sir,” he said, and Virgil rolled his eyes as he went through.

Roman’s car was parked on the street just outside the apartment. Virgil wrapped his arms around himself as they walked. The night air was chilly, and Virgil had only worn his hoodie, which was far too thin for the weather. When they reached the car, Roman hurried around to pull open the passenger door for him.

“You don’t have to open every door for me, you know,” Virgil said, an amused smile on his face as he sat down.

“On the contrary,” Roman said. He winked and closed Virgil’s door, and a moment later slid into the driver’s seat. “It’s my duty.”

“Is this method acting for your prince character?” Virgil asked, pulling his seatbelt on as Roman started the car.

“I think inhabiting the character is method acting for _myself_ ,” Roman said. He turned the headlights on and pulled away from the curb.

“Turn right up here,” Virgil said. He leaned back against the seat. It was very dark outside, and Virgil was grateful that he hadn’t had to walk home. He curled his toes inside his sneaker, glad that his cut didn’t hurt anymore. “When does the show open?”

“Two weeks now,” Roman said, turning the wheel. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your VIP ticket.”

“Roman, you don’t have to-”

“I was thinking opening night,” Roman said. A street lamp momentarily illuminated him as they passed. In the faded light he looked as though he had been carved out of marble and propped up in some revered place of honor. A palace, perhaps. “Patton and Logan will be there, too. It’ll be fun.”

Virgil’s stomach twisted. He turned to look out the window, away from Roman’s perfect marble lips, unable to stop the frown on his face as Dee’s words echoed in his ears.

There was no way that the three of them could be trying to court him, right?

No, that was absurd. Why would they want to date Virgil? Virgil was, well… Virgil. He could understand how they had all found each other, how they had fallen in love- each of them was magnificent in their own way, and Virgil was grateful to know them, but he would never be on the same level as they were. It was probably clear that Virgil had no friends, and their recent efforts to invite him into their lives was nothing but an act of charity. It probably counted as a tax write off.

The thought comforted him just a bit. “It’s on the left,” he said, and Roman pulled up in front of his apartment.

As he got out he was surprised when Roman stood as well, closing the driver’s door  behind him.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said when Virgil shot him a questioning look. “I have to see you all the way to the end, don’t I?”

“Only if you want,” Virgil said with a shrug. He led the way up the front steps and opened the door, holding it for Roman with a cheeky grin.

“I do.”

They took the stairs three floors up and Virgil walked down the hall to his front door. When he grabbed the doorknob and turned it, he was surprised to find it unlocked. He frowned for a moment, bringing up Dee’s schedule in his mind.

He should be at work.

“Well, this is me,” Virgil said. He turned to face Roman, trying to block him from entering without looking rude. He smiled thinly, straining his ears for any sound from within the apartment. “Uh… thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” Roman said. He was smiling, but his eyes had moved past Virgil to scan the room behind him. “Nice apartment.”

“Oh, thanks,” Virgil said. “I would invite you in, but-”

“Virgil?”

Virgil’s hand clenched reflexively around the doorknob. Before he could shut the door, Dee appeared from the bedroom with a sour expression on his face. He paused when he caught sight of Roman.

“We have a guest,” he said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Roman was just dropping me off,” Virgil said.

“Was he? How kind of him. Why don’t you come in, Roman?” Dee asked, lips stretching back in a grin.

“That’s alright, Roman needs to-”

“I think I will, if you don’t mind,” Roman said. Virgil turned to watch with wide eyes as Roman stepped in, brushing Virgil’s elbow gently as he passed him.

Virgil closed the front door and followed them both towards the kitchen, feeling an uneasiness settling in his stomach. That same odd energy settled immediately over the room. It felt tense, strained. Virgil had been admittedly a little tired, but now he felt wide awake.

“Can we get you something to drink, Roman?” Dee asked, moving to stand behind the counter.

“No, thank you,” Roman said. He came to a stop next to one of the barstools but didn’t sit down.

“Responsible,” Dee said. “Well, seeing as I don’t have to drive, I hope you don’t mind if I have a little something. Virgil, make me a vodka tonic, won’t you?”

Virgil, who had been hovering awkwardly between the two, was grateful for the excuse not to just stand there. He opened the cupboard to grab a glass, then went to the fridge.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Dee asked when Virgil set the finished drink down in front of him. “Virgil can fetch it for you.”

“I’m sure,” Roman said. Virgil felt his gaze on him, but was distracted when Dee slid an arm around his waist. The affection was odd, but Dee’s grip was firm, and Virgil decided it would be a bad idea to fight it.

“Virgil told me that you’re an actor,” Dee said, taking a sip of his drink. When he tugged Virgil closer, pulling him flush against his body, Virgil could smell the sharp scent of wine already on him. How long had he been home from work? “That’s very quaint.”

“And he told me that you’re a bank teller,” Roman said. “How very… practical.”

“Someone has to support our little household.”

Virgil licked his lips, which suddenly felt dry. “I think-”

“Quiet, Virgil,” Dee said, curling his fingers into Virgil’s hip. Virgil felt a shiver rise, unbidden, up his spine, and he hunched his shoulders in further, jaw snapping shut over his thought. “How are your partners?”

“Fine.” Roman’s voice sounded clipped.

Dee’s hand wandered up Virgil’s side, fingers coming to brush a curl of hair behind his ear. Virgil resisted the urge to pull away from the touch, which felt out of place here, with Roman watching. Instead he stood still, eyes trained on his feet. He wished he could sink out of the room. “That’s a rather unusual arrangement you three have going on.”

“We find it perfectly manageable.”

“I’m sure,” Dee said. The ice in his glass clinked as he took another sip, draining half of it in one go. His finger traced the shell of Virgil’s ear before falling to settle heavily on his shoulder. “You’re lucky to have two people to be with. I’ve only got Virgil here.”

“I think Virgil is wonderful,” Roman said. Virgil couldn’t bring himself to look at him, couldn’t raise his gaze any higher than the counter. He pressed his hip closer to Dee’s, hoping to silently communicate with him to please, _please_ not reveal to Roman how dismal he was socially.

“Do you?” Dee sounded amused, and Virgil’s heart sank lower. “You don’t know him as well as I do.”

“I know him well enough.”

“Hmm,” Dee said. He moved his arm until his long fingers brushed Virgil’s jaw, and applied gentle pressure. Virgil let his head be turned so that he was forced to look at Dee, to meet his pleasant gaze. “Get me more vodka,” he said, thumb brushing Virgil’s bottom lip.

Virgil searched his eyes for some explanation for the odd behavior. He had never acted like this before, never paid so much attention to Virgil in a conversation.

Instead of answering, Dee raised his glass and dangled it in front of him.

Virgil took it and turned wordlessly towards the fridge, letting Dee release him, wondering if this whole thing was some kind of fever dream. It didn’t seem quite real. Perhaps he had fallen asleep in the middle of game night.

“I will tell you one thing,” Dee said in a quiet voice as Virgil dug out the vodka bottle. “He’s very well-trained.”

“What is wrong with you?” Roman’s voice was sharp enough to make Virgil fumble with the bottle. Virgil turned with wide eyes to see Roman glaring at Dee. His fists were curled at his sides, his shoulders thrown back so that despite his height, his stature was intimidating.

Dee just raised his eyebrows at him. He didn’t look as startled as Virgil felt, but took Roman’s sudden outburst with surprising calm. “I beg your pardon?”

“You can’t speak about him that way,” Roman snapped.

“Roman, don’t,” Virgil said, clutching the vodka to his chest. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want any kind of animosity between someone Virgil hoped to (maybe possibly) call a friend one day and his boyfriend, especially when he didn’t even have a clue what the animosity was _about_.

“Yes, Roman,” Dee said. He leaned his chin on his fist, grinning at Roman. “You heard dear Virgil.”

Virgil set the bottle on the counter and stepped up to Dee, touching his arm to draw his attention away from Roman’s scowl. “Dee, can I speak with you?” he asked quietly, hoping that if he remained calm, he could defuse the situation.

Dee stared at him, and Virgil almost shrank away, a _sorry, nevermind_ already forming on his tongue. Then Dee turned back to Roman and said, “Please excuse us for one moment. Help yourself to the vodka.”

Virgil didn’t look at Roman as he left, half afraid of what he would see. He followed Dee out of the room and down the hall, and was surprised when Dee opened the door to their bedroom. Figuring it was the most private place they had, Virgil stepped inside and crossed his arms as Dee closed the door behind him. It clicked shut loudly in the silence.

“How much have you had to drink?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything, darling.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I most certainly am not,” Dee said. “Could a drunk person do this?”

He swooped in suddenly, gracefully, forcing Virgil to step back so he was flat against the wall. Virgil’s breath hitched in his throat when Dee leaned down to press his lips to Virgil’s neck, and his nerves alighted at the sensation without him willing them to.

“Dee,” Virgil said, ashamed when his voice came out a whine.

“Say my name again,” Dee whispered against Virgil’s skin. His hand came down on Virgil’s waist, shoving his hip against the wall roughly. “Just like that.”

Virgil swallowed and squirmed until Dee lifted his head, finger still hooked through one of the belt loops of Virgil’s jeans. “What?”

“Roman’s right out there,” Virgil whispered, heart pounding, acutely aware of the other man’s presence just a few thin walls away. He wasn’t much in the mood to sleep with Dee tonight, especially since he had been drinking, but he normally would have sucked it up and done it had they not technically had a guest.

“He wishes he was the one in here fucking you.”

“Dee!”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t see it,” Dee growled. He pressed his face inward so his mouth was inches from Virgil’s, arms braced on either side of him, keeping Virgil pinned to one spot. Virgil turned his face away, staring with wide eyes at the closed door as the mixed smell of vodka and wine assaulted him. He could taste it on his tongue even though Dee hadn’t even kissed him. “All three of them have been trying to get in your pants since they met you, haven’t they?”

“Of course not,” Virgil said, trying to push further back against the wall when Dee’s nose brushed his ear. Dee tilted his jaw and Virgil felt the scrape of teeth across his cheekbone. Dee was toying with him, playing his usual game, one in which Virgil was never allowed to participate, only spectate.

He felt helpless.

“Have you done it?”

“Of _course_ not!”

“I’ll bet you have,” Dee murmured. He pressed forward so that his lower body was against Virgil’s. He rolled his hips, and Virgil felt the hot press of him against his thigh, felt a familiar feeling of invasion when Dee pushed a knee between his legs and shoved them apart. “You’re so easy, aren’t you?”

“I’m- I’m not-” Virgil stuttered, trying to say something, anything to defend himself, but Dee never listened when he was drunk.

“You are,” Dee said. One of his hands was moving, fumbling between them, and Virgil realized with growing horror that he had ahold of Virgil’s zipper. “You’re a slut. Say it.”

“I’m not-”

Dee’s other hand came to wrap around Virgil’s neck, and Virgil felt the pressure against his throat that he associated with panic, with desperation. He tilted his head back, heart rate picking up as Dee leaned in close. The last time he had fought it off, he had been punished. Now, he opted for going still in Dee’s grip, trying to make it easier for them both.

“Don’t think I can’t make you,” Dee whispered. The stench of vodka was like acid. “Say it.”

“I’m- I’m a- I’m a slut,” Virgil choked out around the force crushing his windpipe.

“Good boy,” Dee said, and the words brought goosebumps to Virgil’s skin. “That man out there,” he continued. He had Virgil’s zipper down, and Virgil tensed as his fingers nudged the hem of his underwear up. “All he wants to do is fuck you, Virgil. All three of them want to.”

“Just- friends.” Dee’s fingers were still around his throat, curling, tighter, and Virgil was struggling to get any kind of oxygen down. It needed to stop, it was too much, Virgil was being touched everywhere he shouldn’t be and he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t bring his hands up from where they were hanging limply at his sides, useless.

He couldn’t even bring himself to fight it.

“Why would they want to be your fucking friend?” Dee’s hand slipped further down and Virgil choked around a quickly silenced sob. “They just know how easy you can be at the drop of a hat. But you know what? You’re mine, and if I have to pull you aside just to show you that, I will.”

“Stop,” Virgil moaned as Dee’s fingers started moving, prodding, too rough. The hand around his throat pressed down further, and Virgil’s head hurt against the wall, and he couldn’t breathe, and his torso felt warm against his will. Spots danced across his vision and Virgil let his eyes slip shut, head spinning, hands finally going out weakly to press against Dee’s chest, to show a sign that Dee needed to stop, but Dee just leaned in and pressed his lips against Virgil’s, his mouth wet and needy and relentless as it took the last of Virgil’s breath.

“Virgil, I’m going to-” Dee’s lips were suddenly pulled away, coming free from Virgil’s with a sharp tug. All at once the pressure left Virgil’s body and he fell forward, unsupported, knees giving way underneath him and banging painfully against the ground. Virgil choked in a breath of air as he crumpled, sucking in fresh oxygen, eyesight still blurred and tilting dangerously.

He could hear footsteps around him, but his mind felt as though it were swimming through Jell-o. He brought a shaky hand up to his neck, and his own touch brought a wave of fresh pain rushing through him. Virgil closed his eyes, willing for the floor to stop spinning underneath his hands.

Then there was another hand on him, fingers near his undone zipper, and Virgil’s body twitched. He let out a high whine, pushing himself away and falling back on the floor, trying to get away from whoever was trying to touch him again, away, away-

“Virgil- Virgil, shit, I’m sorry, I’m- it’s alright, it’s me, it’s Roman, I’m not going to hurt you-”

Virgil’s back found the wall again. He opened his eyes and scrambled until he was sitting up, back pressed against it, and panted loudly as he stared at the man crouched in front of him.

Roman’s eyes were wide. He was on his knees in front of him, hands held up in a show of peace. Virgil looked from him and then dropped his gaze, where a figure was curled up motionless on the ground behind him. A spasm of panic shot through Virgil’s chest.

“Dee,” he tried to say, but no words made it past his sore throat.

“Virgil, we need to go,” said Roman’s voice.

Virgil swallowed and shook his head, feeling tears spring up into his eyes as he raked his gaze over Dee’s body. Oh, god, he had done this, this was all his fault, if he had just been quieter, easier, then Dee wouldn’t be- wouldn’t be-

“Yes, Virgil. I’m going to take you home with me. Can I take you home?”

“Dee,” Virgil repeated, and this time the name came out, cracked and hoarse.

“Dee is going to be fine,” Roman said. At that, Virgil looked at him to find the other man was grimacing. “But he’s- Virgil, he was about to hurt you, very badly. Do you understand that?”

Virgil tried to scowl- he wasn’t an idiot- but he was only able to release a choked sob. He looked down, towards the hem of his pants, to find his zipper undone, his underwear wrinkled and tugged low. The sight made Virgil’s shoulders freeze, and he felt the press of his shoulder blades against the wall.

“Do you want me to grab anything for you? Virgil?”

Virgil let his head fall back against the wall. “Laptop,” he said without thinking. He stared at Dee. He could see his chest rising and falling, and Roman had said that he would be okay, he was probably just unconscious, how did he get that way, did Virgil do it, oh shit oh shit-

Roman found his laptop easily on the bed, plugged into the wall to charge. He yanked it out of the socket and picked it up. “Anything else?”

Virgil drew his legs up to his chest and put his head down. He felt lightheaded, tired. Maybe he could ask Roman to help him to the bed. If he could just get to the bed, he could sleep, and when he woke up this awful nightmare would be over and Dee would be okay and not mad and Virgil wouldn’t feel so sick to his stomach.

“No- Virgil, come on, Virgil.”

There was a hand touching his shoulder, and Virgil flinched, adrenaline spiking again, cutting through the fuzzy exhaustion that had settled around his shoulders like a blanket. Roman pulled away as though Virgil had stung him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice cracked, drawing Virgil’s attention fully to him to him for the first time. Was Roman upset with him as well? “I’m sorry, Virgil, but I need to get you back. Patton- Patton and Logan will help, okay? Will you let me help you?”

He extended a hand. Virgil stared at it. He didn’t want to- he wanted to fall asleep right there, wanted to fall asleep so he could wake up- but he had never seen Roman so frightened. It scared Virgil. Even if this was just a dream, Roman was brave and should never look like that.

Virgil took Roman’s hand and let the other man pull him to his feet.

Roman released Virgil as soon as he was upright, relinquishing his hold. Virgil braced himself against the wall as his stomach gave an awful twist.

“Virgil,” Roman said. He was watching Virgil closely. “Your jeans.”

Virgil looked down. He felt warm and cold all over, the way he had when he had been young with the flu. He wordlessly zipped up his jeans.

“Virgil, are you- are you alright?”

Virgil swallowed. His fingernails scrabbled helplessly at the smooth wall, searching for some kind of traction, and a moment later he felt Roman’s arms around him, holding him up as he tipped forward and wretched.

“It’s alright,” Roman whispered as Virgil threw up, body convulsing painfully as he choked on the acid rising in his throat. His fingers moved to Virgil’s hair, pushing his sweaty bangs back as Virgil heaved. “Come on, Virgil, let it out.”

The vomit was acrid, bitter on his tongue. When his stomach righted again Virgil tipped his head forward. It hung limply as he let Roman support him, let him prop him up like a broken china doll. Virgil’s sticky fingers found Roman’s forearms. He could feel his straining muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Will he be okay?” he asked hoarsely.

“He’s fine,” Roman said. “He’s just knocked out. You can check on him later, Virgil, but I need to get you out of here. Are you okay to walk?”

Virgil swallowed painfully and nodded, hair waving across his blurred vision.

He stood, taking his own weight back and teetering for only a moment. He walked to the door in a haze, tracing the path down the hall to the kitchen. He picked up his wallet from the counter, patted his pocket to make sure he still had his phone, all in a mechanical fog. It felt almost like he was leaving for work. He had the absurd urge to laugh.

Roman held the door open for him. Virgil wandered out into the hall and then stopped, staring stupidly in the direction of the stairwell until Roman came up beside him and gently touched his arm. This time, Virgil didn’t pull away, and he let Roman lead him down the hall and down the stairs. Each step reverberated against Virgil’s aching skull.

It was even colder outside than it had been before. Virgil trailed after Roman to the car and slid into the seat when Roman directed him to. Virgil curled his legs underneath him, not bothering with a seatbelt, and watched with half-closed eyes as Roman turned the car on.

“Are you alright, Virgil?” Roman asked as he pulled away from the curb.

Virgil hummed and shut his eyes. The leather seat felt cool against his skin, and the movement of the car was comforting. Virgil felt drunk with a sudden wash of exhaustion, and wondered if he was finally about to leave this nightmare.

“Are you just trying to fuck me, Roman?” The words grated in Virgil’s throat, but he had to say it before he woke up, before he forgot all of this in the light of day.

“What? Of course I’m not.”

“It’s alright if you are,” Virgil murmured, pressing his cheek against the soft leather. “You’re still very nice.”

“I promise you I’m not, Virgil.”

“What about Patton and Logan?”

“No, Virgil. We’re your friends.”

“Hm,” Virgil said. “You’re nice.”

The car swam underneath him as it cut lazy turns in the street. All too soon they were stopped, and Roman was at his side trying to get him to stand.

“Come on, Virgil, please,” he said, hovering just outside the door. “We’re almost there.”

Virgil sighed, but Roman was nice and the dream was about to be over soon anyways, so he crawled out of the car and into the cold night.

Roman led him up the front steps and into the apartment building. He started towards the elevator and Virgil froze, his tired eyes fixed on the metal.

“No,” he mumbled, and Roman turned to look at him in confusion.

“Virgil, I don’t think you can make it up the stairs.”

Virgil shut his eyes. Roman stepped closer and wrapped one arm around Virgil’s shoulder. His touch was light, a shadow of what Virgil was used to. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll get you there, alright?”

Virgil allowed himself to be shuffled towards the elevator. Roman hit the button for their floor, and Virgil heard the doors slide shut. He tried to shrink down, curling into Roman’s side, trying to press himself further into Roman’s strong grip. Roman obliged, hand moving up and down to stroke his arm, and after a few moments he said, “We’re here.”

Virgil opened his eyes and realized with a start that he was trembling. The realization only made him shake harder, and as Roman guided him out of the elevator he felt every part of his body quivering in Roman’s grip. He should have woken up by now. Why wasn’t he waking up?

They stepped up to the front door and Roman pushed it open. The living room was dark; Roman turned on the lights and closed the door with his foot.

“Hang on, Virgil,” he said, dropping his arm. Virgil immediately missed his embrace and felt a harsh, cold tremor shake him. “I’ll be right back, stay here.”

Virgil wrapped his arms around himself and hung his head. His legs felt weak and his body felt warm and cold, and he was still struggling to form a coherent thought in his head that wasn’t a strong desire to slip away and let all of this drift away from him in unconsciousness.

He heard raised voices, and a door slamming open. Virgil didn’t look up as footsteps approached him.

“Virgil,” someone whispered, and Virgil registered it dimly as Patton. “Come with me.”

There were voices murmuring around him, but Virgil focused on Patton’s hand as it grabbed his. He let Patton tug him along, let himself be maneuvered carefully, and sat down on the sofa when Patton directed him to. It greeted him with a fond embrace.

“I don’t think he knows what’s happening,” he heard Roman say, and Virgil wanted to protest that of course he did, just because he was dreaming didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of it, but he couldn’t make his mouth move at all.

“He’s in shock,” Logan murmured. Someone settled onto the couch next to Virgil and Virgil shut his eyes, curling away from it, suddenly afraid that sharp pain would come back to bite through his fog.

“Hey,” someone whispered. “It’s okay. We won’t touch you, Virgil.”

Virgil rested his head against the couch cushion. He could still feel someone sitting beside him, but they didn’t make a move to touch him, and Patton had promised, so Virgil figured it was safe enough to not worry.

“You’re okay, Virgil,” the voice whispered. “Go to sleep.”

Virgil gave in and let himself wake up.

X X X X X

Virgil woke up in an unfamiliar room. He laid there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the emptiness he felt in his chest. It was only minutes after he opened his eyes that the door cracked open and someone poked their head in.

“Virgil,” Logan said. He opened the door further and stepped into the room. He was dressed in his usual white button down and tie, and looked as though he had already been working for several hours. “You’re awake.”

“Where-?” Virgil’s voice came out hoarse, and he stopped to try and clear it.

“Our guest bedroom,” Logan said as Virgil coughed. He shut the door and stepped forward, head cocked to the side. The look of concern on his face was unfamiliar. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“I-” Virgil did- it had hit him like a punch to his gut as soon as he had woken up- but he wasn’t sure what to think about all of it. He wasn’t thinking about much of anything, actually, except that he was wearing a large, oversized blue shirt instead of his hoodie, and he didn’t know who it belonged to. He still had his own jeans on, thankfully. “Yes.”

“Good.” Logan looked relieved. “I wasn’t sure if… well. That’s very good. How are you  feeling?”

Virgil raised his hand to his neck. “My throat hurts,” he said, letting his gaze wander over the rest of the bedroom.

“Yes, Roman told us,” Logan said. “Anything else?”

“Just- tired.”

“Perfectly understandable. I’m going to go and make some tea for your throat. Patton has prepared breakfast if you would like to come and join us, but there is no pressure to do so. Should you not emerge, I will bring your tea to you.”

“You don’t have to,” Virgil said, already uncomfortable with the attention.

“I want to,” Logan said. His lips quirked upwards, briefly, and then he turned and left.

Virgil sat up fully in the bed, letting the blankets slide off of him. A thick quilt had been pulled up over him in addition to the covers, swaddling him in heavy fabric. The curtains were drawn across the window, keeping the small mostly dark, but around the edges Virgil could see bright light peeking through.

Virgil looked down at the shirt he was wearing, touching the hem. It was soft and plain, and large enough that when he moved his arms the neckline slipped down over his shoulder. He pinched a bit of it and sniffed it, recognizing the scent but unable to place it.

He rubbed his eyes, already feeling a headache growing, and threw the blankets back. He wished he could just go back to bed, but he couldn’t sit here and let Logan bring him tea. Besides, he needed to assess the damage he had done to his life.

When he emerged, tugging at the shirt to try and make it fit better on his thin frame, Patton was seated at the kitchen table with a warm mug. He was turned in the direction of the television, but looked up when Virgil appeared. His hair was messy and he was still wearing what looked like pajamas.

“Virgil!” Patton set his mug down and smiled, and Virgil felt the bizarre urge to shrink away from his sunshine. “How are you feeling, kiddo?”

“Fine,” Virgil said, watching the colorful television screen for a moment. It was a cartoon he didn’t recognize.

“Well, why don’t you come and take a seat. I made pancakes!”

Virgil didn’t want to. He wanted to turn around and crawl back into bed. Instead, he crossed the room and sat down obediently in an empty seat as Patton stood and scurried off into the kitchen. Logan appeared in his absence with a green mug.

“Green tea with honey,” he said, setting the drink down in front of Virgil “It will soothe your throat.”

“Thank you,” said Virgil, reaching out to touch the mug’s handle lightly. Patton appeared behind Logan carrying a plate stacked with half a dozen pancakes. There was a bottle of syrup nestled into his arm. “Where’s Roman?” Virgil asked, shifting uncomfortably as Patton dropped everything in front of him.

“Roman is at rehearsal,” Logan said. He sat down across from Virgil and picked up a newspaper that was lying on the table. “He sends his fondest regards and promises to return as soon as he can.”

Virgil looked down at the plate and the drink, and then his heart leapt as something clicked in his mind. “Shit,” he said. He shoved his hand in his pocket, nerves skyrocketing when he felt nothing. “Where’s my-”

Logan pulled Virgil’s phone out of his own pocket and handed it over without a word. Virgil took it, deciding not to waste time questioning why it had been taken from him.

“It’s Saturday,” Virgil said, turning it on and staring as the screen booted up. “It’s almost noon!”

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.

“I had a shift.” Virgil found the number he was looking for in his recently missed calls and pressed it, raising the phone to his ear.

The dial tone rang twice before a click on the other end told him that someone had picked up. “Hello,” a familiar voice said, “how can I-”  
“Alice.”

“Virgil? Where the hell are you? Ricky has been flipping out all morning!”

“I’m sorry, I just woke up.”

“You just-? It’s noon!”

“I know. I- I’m so sorry, it was totally my fault, but something happened last night and-”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just- I don’t think I can come in today,” Virgil said, wincing with guilt. He knew how hard it would be for her alone on a Saturday, their busiest day. “But I can take your shift tomorrow to make up for it.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Take today and tomorrow to deal with whatever’s going on. I’ll tell Ricky you’re sick.”

“No, really, I can come in tomorrow and-”

“Virgil, with no due respect, you sound fucking awful. Do you actually have pneumonia?”

“No. It’s- sorry, I can’t-”

“Hey. Virgil. You don’t have to tell me. Just- get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Will you let me know if you need to talk about anything?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright. Take it easy, pal.”

Virgil lowered his phone. “Everything alright?” Patton asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. He checked quickly to see if he had any other notifications and frowned when he had none. “Alice is going to cover for me.”

“She’s a good friend,” Patton said. He reached out to nudge the syrup forward as Virgil set his phone down. “You need to get some food in you, kiddo.”

Virgil raised the mug of tea Logan had brought him and took a hesitant sip. It was scalding hot and burned his tongue, but he was grateful for the sharp bite of it. His throat felt marginally better after he swallowed.

“The food as well, Virgil,” Logan said lightly without looking up from his paper. Virgil flushed and picked up the syrup, dabbing some onto the corner of his plate. He didn’t want to risk upsetting either of them.

He ate slowly. The pancakes were delicious, and no one had cooked for him in ages, but his appetite was nonexistent and it hurt to swallow. He got all the way through one pancake and partway through the next before he put his fork down, feeling slightly queasy.

“You alright, Virgil?” Patton asked when Virgil had sat there for several moments without moving.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, hoping that it was alright if he didn’t finish. “It, uh- it was great. Thank you.”

“Of course, kiddo,” Patton said. Relieved, Virgil stood and picked up the plate, but Patton plucked it from his hands with a bright smile.

“I’ve got it!”

“Please, let me,” Virgil said, trying very hard not to sound desperate, but Patton just waved him off.

“You sit your butt right back down and finish your tea,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

“Patton likes to help,” Logan said as Patton disappeared. He flipped a page in his newspaper and scanned the next article, looking disinterested in its contents. He always looked that way, like nothing he could read would ever be intelligent enough or quick enough for his brain. “I find it’s best to just let him.”

Virgil sat down again, at a loss for what to do without a job. Patton had asked him to finish his tea, so he raised it to his lips and took another sip. He stared at the television without understanding anything that was happening until Patton came out and sat down again.

“Have you ever watched Avatar the Last Airbender?” Patton asked, picking up his drink. When Virgil shook his head, he bounced excitedly in his seat. Virgil looked warily at Patton’s sloshing mug. “Oh, it’s our very favorite show of all time! You would love it. It’s about this community who can bend elements and this kid named Aang can bend all four so he’s the Avatar and the fire nation-”

“Slower, dear,” Logan said.

Patton broke off in a laugh. “We’ll just show it to you,” he said. “Did you hear that, Logan? Another marathon!”

“As long as I don’t have to dress up this time.”

“But you looked so handsome as Zuko! Virgil, did you get enough to eat?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked, struggling to keep up with the rapidly changing trajectory of the conversation. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You are so very welcome, with syrup on top. Well, you figured everything out with your job, I have the weekend off, Logan doesn’t have any classes- we have so much free time! Except for Roman, of course. His play opens so soon, isn’t that exciting? We’re so excited. He should be home later today and then we can do whatever we want for dinner. We can go out somewhere, or I can cook, or we can stay in and order take-out-”

“Patton,” Virgil said. He felt bad when Patton immediately closed his mouth, because he knew what it felt like to be interrupted, but he couldn’t take Patton’s nervous rambling, not when it was stirring up his own anxiety. “We can… we can talk about what happened last night, you know. I’m alright.”

“Oh,” Patton said. The newspaper crinkled as Logan put it down and looked over his glasses at Virgil. “Well, I think it’s best if we wait for Roman, kiddo. Just so everyone’s here, you know? But if you need to talk anything through right now, by all means-”

“No,” Virgil said. He set his cup down. “I don’t- it’s just that I should probably, um. Explain?”

“We of course would be glad to hear your side of the incident,” Logan said, “but if you do not want to relive it, please do not do so on our account. Roman recounted the events of last night already,”

“He- he did?”

“Although it is by no means complete,” Logan said, “you need not worry that we do not understand the gravity of what occurred.”

“Right,” Virgil said, feeling foolish. Of course Roman had told them. He had probably told them everything, every embarrassing aspect of what had occurred.

“There is one thing,” Patton said. “We weren’t sure if we should call anyone to let them know if you’re alright. Do you want us to contact any family members, or…?”

“No,” Virgil said. He suddenly felt even more tired than he had when he had woken up. “No, there’s no one.”

“Okay, kiddo,” Patton said, taking Virgil’s response with a smile. “Well, Roman won’t be home for a few more hours. Want to watch some cartoons with me?”

Virgil knew he should say yes, but he felt suddenly as though he would melt away if he didn’t get out from under their scrutiny. “Actually, could I- I mean, could I go take a nap?”

“Oh, of course you can, Virgil!” Patton leapt to his feet. “The guest bedroom is all yours. Do you need any more blankets, or more pillows, or anything at all?”

“No,” Virgil said. He stood up, wrapping his arms around himself. “Thank you.”

“Of course, kiddo. Let me know as soon as you need something!”

“Thank you,” Virgil said, and then he ducked his head and made a break for the guest bedroom.

Inside, the bed beckoned him, a siren song of sleep. He closed the door and crawled in, climbing underneath the bedsheets and the quilt and pulling them up so they were a warm weight on top of him. It wasn’t quite the same as his hoodie, which he had been too nervous to ask for, but he was grateful for the comforting pressure.

He turned on his side to stare at the closed door, watching it with tired eyes, half expecting it to open the moment he let his awareness go. It felt like several hours before he finally fell asleep.

X X X X X

When he woke up again, it was to distant voices in the living room. Virgil crept out of the guest bedroom and stopped by the bathroom to splash water onto his face and grimace at his appearance. He tried to flatten his frizzy hair across his forehead, attempting to force it into some semblance of his usual fringe, and poked at the dark circles under his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his makeup, but he still looked like a raccoon.

He was glad that he had his own jeans on, but they were beginning to feel tight and uncomfortable. He tugged at the hem of the shirt that wasn’t his and took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom, following the sound of laughter to the living room.

All three of them were sitting on the couch. Patton and Logan were upright on either side with Roman splayed across their laps, his head in Logan’s lap, feet in Patton’s. They were watching something on the television but looked up in unison when Virgil shuffled in.

“Virgil.” Roman sat up in one swift movement. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. He couldn’t bring himself to look Roman in the eye.

“We’re watching Steven Universe,” Patton said, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. He was still wearing pajamas, but a different pair than earlier. These were a plaid flannel set that looked a bit too warm for the weather outside, but cozy. “Want to join?”

“Actually, I thought we could, um… talk. A bit,” Virgil said awkwardly. He just wanted to get this conversation over with so he could decide what to do next. He knew he ought to try and contact Dee- he had already considered it several times today- but every time he reached for his phone he felt a sharp, physical pain in his stomach.

He couldn’t stall forever.

“Of course,” Logan said. He leaned forward and grabbed the remote off the coffee table, shutting off the television. Abrupt silence fell over the room. “Take a seat, Virgil.”

Virgil sat. He pressed himself back as far as he could in the armchair and crossed his arms, wishing again for the safety of his hoodie. He felt too exposed. “I’m sorry.”

All three of them erupted into speech, an overlapping mixture of “Why?” and “Kiddo, no,” and “Don’t be ridiculous,” and Virgil cringed at the onslaught of it, clutching his elbows closer to his body.

“What we _mean_ ,” Logan cut in, turning a quick glare at his partners, “is that you have nothing to be sorry for, Virgil. Nothing at all.”

“I didn’t mean to drag you guys into this.” Virgil stared at the hole in his sock, the one that opened wider when he wiggled his toes. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”  
“Neither should you,” said Patton, his voice gentle, as though he were approaching a wounded animal.

Virgil shook his head. “I can handle it,” he said. He swallowed, raising his eyes just enough to look at the knees of Roman’s pants. “Roman, I’m- I’m so sorry about last night. It must have been awful.”

“I was glad I was there, Virgil.” Roman leaned forward, and Virgil forced himself to look at Roman’s hands. He had handsome hands, Virgil noted, and then he clenched his fist because _who the fuck thought stuff like that_? “You mustn’t apologize. It was in no way your fault.”

It was. “I knew he was upset,” Virgil whispered. “I shouldn’t have let you come in, I should have-” He should have been quieter, easier, better. He dropped his head into his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes, willing himself not to have a panic attack. He’d already humiliated himself in front of these people enough.

They were quiet while Virgil pressed his emotions down. He took a slow breath and clenched his jaw resolutely before sitting up again. This time, he managed to look Roman in the face, and was only momentarily startled by the odd expression on the other man’s face. He expected impatience at having to deal with Virgil’s mixed emotions, his obvious inadequacies. Instead, Roman’s brow was furrowed with what looked vaguely like concern.

“I promise it won’t happen again,” Virgil said, and was proud when his voice came out stronger than anticipated.

“Of course it won’t,” Roman said. “I won’t let it. If that-” He glanced aside at Logan and seemed to change the course of his words. “If he attempts to come near you again, I swear on my honor that I will… _remove_ him from your presence.”

Virgil frowned. “That’s… that’s alright, Roman. I’ll be fine. I should probably head back soon, anyways.”

Roman’s lips parted briefly. “What?”

“I have to go home,” Virgil said. He looked at Patton to find the other man watching him with a pinched expression, and dropped his gaze again, unable to hold the awkward eye contact. “Thank you for letting me stay the night. I appreciate it.”

“Virgil,” Patton said. “You… you aren’t actually thinking of going back, are you?”

Virgil wished again for his hoodie. “I have to.”

“That is false, Virgil,” Logan said, his voice quiet and matter-of-fact. He left no room for the bewilderment Virgil could feel rising in his chest.

“No,” Virgil said. “I have to go back and try to fix things, try to- he’s my boyfriend, I-”

“Your abusive boyfriend,” Roman said, and Virgil’s heart seized violently. He shook his head hard enough to stir a mild headache up again.

“No,” he said, “no, he isn’t-”

“Virgil,” Patton said. He looked far too pitying, and Virgil felt it push him farther down the spiral of panic building in him.

“He’s not abusive,” he said, wishing he could sound indignant instead of desperate. “I upset him last night. He was- he was drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Roman said.

Virgil leaned forward in his seat, a flare of anger drawing a snarl out of him. “You don’t know him.”

Roman’s eyes flashed in a way that sent Virgil’s momentary bravery crawling back into its cave. “I know that if I hadn’t interceded last night, he would have _raped_ you.” His voice was scathing, and Virgil fought to cling to his own glare even as he tucked his shaking hands away.

“I had it under control!” he snapped.

“Bullshit!”

Virgil recoiled, ducking his head low as the shout tore his composure to shreds. He dug his fingers into his arms and closed his eyes, regretting his words, hoping that Roman’s anger wouldn’t spill over and engulf him until he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe-

“Roman.” Virgil had never heard Patton so upset.

“You weren’t there, Patton, you didn’t see-”

“Roman, stop it!”

His nails were pressing into his skin, pinpricks of pain that Virgil clung to, tried to focus on as he felt the space around him closing in. It was too much, all too much, Roman’s exasperation was like a weight on his shoulders, and Dee hated it when Virgil got like this, when he panicked and couldn’t talk and shut down but he couldn’t help it, everything was spinning and getting smaller around him and it was going to crush him.

“Virgil.” There was a hand on his knee, barely there, and Virgil gasped and pulled away. He hunched inward, waiting for the next touch, resigned to it.

It didn’t come.

Swallowing, Virgil opened his eyes, just a bit. Through his muddled vision he saw Logan’s sharp expression, the reliable slant of his frown.

“Virgil, we are not going to touch you,” he said quietly. His words were firm, his eyes so intense Virgil had to shut his own to hide from them. “Roman is not going to hurt you. He is not upset with you. No one is upset with you. Can you hear me?”

Virgil was having trouble breathing, but he had been asked a direct question, so he nodded.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Logan continued. “I need you to breathe. Just focus on that, alright? I’ll do it as well. Match my breaths if you feel comfortable doing so.”

Virgil peeked up again. Logan was still looking at him, but his severe expression had relaxed somewhat. When he opened his mouth to draw in a long breath, Virgil dropped his eyes to Logan’s lips and then to his chest, watching the rise and the fall.

“In for four,” Logan said. “Hold it for seven.” Virgil sucked in a breath, watching Logan’s still shoulders. He waited until they dropped to exhale shakily. “Release for eight,” Logan said. “Good job, that was really well done, Virgil. Can you do it again?”

A small part of Virgil felt patronized. The rest of him clung to Logan’s instructions, desperate for anything to help him breathe, to get oxygen back to his spinning head. He breathed in and held it, bringing his eyes back up to make eye contact with Logan. His eyes were so blue, and Virgil searched them as he breathed out.

“Again.”

Virgil let the repetitive motions and the soothing shade of Logan’s eyes bring his panic gradually back under control. After several minutes his vision righted itself and his chest felt less like there was a foot pressing down on it. He took another deep breath in and held it in time with Logan, then let it go.

As he came back to himself, he realized that his arms hurt. He looked down and released his grip on himself to find ten perfect little crescents dug into his skin where his nails had cut him.

Virgil sniffed. He hadn’t realized he had been crying until now. He reached up and wiped at the wetness on his cheeks, heat crawling up his neck as he realized the full extent of what had just happened.

“Better?” Logan asked. He was still crouched in front of Virgil, a respectable distance away from him.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, his voice thick with the aftermath of the attack. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to clear his threat. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Logan said. “You handled it marvelously.”

“Virgil.”

The voice was hesitant, subdued. Virgil looked up to see Roman on the edge of the sofa, legs poised as though he wished to stand but was too afraid to do so. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, and Virgil might have found the anguish on his face comical in a different situation.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said, his voice soft, unprovoking. “I- god. I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” Virgil said, and even he could hear his lack of confidence.

Roman looked as though he wanted to say more, but Patton placed a hand on his knee. He smiled at Virgil even though his eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Virgil’s guilt tripled.

“Virgil,” Logan said, drawing Virgil’s attention back to him. “Do you get panic attacks often?”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said automatically, and Logan shook his head.

“Do not apologize. I simply wished to point out that if you are dealing with some kind of anxiety disorder, it is even more important that you remove yourself from the situation you are currently in.”

Virgil swallowed, wishing he could ignore the truth in Logan’s words, wishing they didn’t sting with shame quite so badly. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” His voice came out in a sore, frog-like croak. He didn’t bother trying to fix it. “I don’t have any family. I can’t afford to live anywhere else. Dee is all I have.”

“You have us.” Patton got up and came to crouch beside Logan, his smile inviting and unassuming. “You can stay with us as long as you need.”

“I couldn’t-”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “I recognize that this is an uncomfortable predicament for you to be in. If you’d like, you could give staying with us a trial run of sorts. Stay long enough to create distance between yourself and the situation in order to judge it more accurately. If, at the end of this trial, you decide that you are content, we can help you find a more permanent situation. If you choose to return to your boyfriend, then we will not stop you.”

Patton reached out to brush his fingers against Logan’s hand.

Virgil sniffed and ran his thumb over the claw marks he had dug into his own arm. “How- how long is the trial?”

“A week,” Logan said after a moment. “Stay for a week, and then you can make a decision.”

Virgil felt the relief as though someone had connected him to a fresh supply of oxygen. He slumped in his seat, grateful that the pressure of a choice had been lifted.

“A week,” he repeated, testing it out. He could do that. Dee might even understand, if Virgil explained everything to him. Virgil could fix a week, and it would give him time to _breathe_. “A week. I… are you sure?”

“No one’s ever even used that spare room,” Patton said. “It will be grateful for a bit of company.”

Virgil swallowed. “Okay,” he said with a short nod. “I’ll- I’ll stay for a week.”

Patton’s smile was relieved, delighted, and Virgil felt his stomach twist in a positive way for the first time that day. “Wonderful!” he said. “Now, can I get you some water?”

Virgil wanted some, badly, but instead he said, “Where’s my hoodie?”

“Oh!” Patton leapt to his feet and Virgil tried not to flinch away. “It got a bit dirty last night, so I gave it a wash. I’ll go grab it for you.”

He rushed away. Logan stood, smoothing his shirt down, and went to go join Roman on the couch.

“Your laptop is in the guest bedroom,” Roman said quietly. “It was the only thing you asked for.”

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to look at him, still frightened of seeing that indignation there, that anger. He nodded at his feet and said, “Thank you.”

“Here it is,” Patton said, emerging with a Virgil’s hoodie folded neatly. Virgil sat up straighter and accepted it gratefully, unfolding it to ensure that it was intact. He ran his fingers over the stitching, a sense of safety settling over him as he gripped the fabric.

“Thank you,” he murmured, bringing it close to hug to his chest, not caring how childish it might look. It smelled pleasantly of lavender laundry detergent.

“Of course, kiddo,” Patton said. He looked down at Virgil with a gentle smile.

“We’ve got your back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this story continues to astound me. I've already pre-written a good chunk of the story, which is why I'm getting them up in such a timely manner, and I will continue to attempt to follow a similar schedule. Thank you all so much for being such wonderful readers and for all the comments and kudos- you all make me smile!! I hope you all have a wonderful day/night <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: self-deprecating thoughts, emotional manipulation.

Virgil spent the rest of the evening and the day after that locked in the guest bedroom, only emerging when Patton knocked on the door for meals. The three of them were being obscenely kind to him, but Virgil couldn’t help but feel as though he were taking advantage of that kindness. He didn’t need to be there, after all; Dee hadn’t contacted him, which meant that he was probably still upset with Virgil, but Virgil could go home any time. He  _ should  _ go home. He needed to apologize to Dee, to explain, to promise that it wouldn’t happen again.

Except-

Except even though Virgil felt somewhat trapped in the tiny guest bedroom, it was as though he could breathe again for the first time in… well. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he had breathed freely. He watched a movie he had never had time for and took several naps and laid in the bed, quilt swathed around him like a cloud, staring at the ceiling. Normally, when he was left alone with his thoughts, they inevitably turned towards sour things, towards anxieties and issues that he hadn’t yet dealt with. But now Virgil just felt blank. Tired. He listened to the rise and fall of his own chest and allowed himself to breathe.

He went back to work on Monday morning. Ricky was cross with him and spent the first five minutes of the day lecturing Virgil about calling in before skipping. When he finally released Virgil back into the shop, Alice had already opened everything up.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, looking up from counting the money in the register. “You feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Virgil said, tying his apron on. “How’re you?”

“Fine,” Alice said, and Virgil could hear the suspicion in her voice. She slid the cash tray shut with her hip and crossed her arms. “M’kay. Spill.”

“What?” Virgil picked up a towel and crouched down, inspecting the silver handle of the fridge for nonexistent fingerprints.

“Something’s up.”

“Nothing’s up.”

“Virgil.”

Virgil scrubbed at the fridge door, running the towel around the dull edges. “It’s nothing.”

“Virgil, we still have five minutes before we have to unlock the door, and I am going to stand here and stare very officially at you until you-”

“Dee and I broke up.” Virgil stood and threw the towel down on the counter. He turned away from Alice before he could see the stunned look on her face. 

“Oh, shit, Virge, I- I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Virgil reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at his bangs. He didn’t know why he had said that- he and Dee hadn’t broken up, they were just going through a rocky patch, there was nothing  _ broken up  _ about them, but it had slipped out and now he couldn’t take it back.

Alice placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Her touch made his skin crawl. “Virgil?”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. He shrugged out of her grip and turned to throw her a comforting smile. “We had a- we had a little disagreement, but it’ll probably blow over. We just need some time apart.”

“Where are you staying?” Alice asked, eyebrows drawn with concern.

Virgil carefully turned his gaze on the coffee machine. “Actually, with, uh- with Patton. And his partners.”

“Patton?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “I told them about Dee, and they offered me their spare bedroom until I can figure something else out.”

“That’s- nice of them,” Alice said. There was something strange in her voice, but Virgil didn’t dare look at her.

“Yes,” Virgil said. “Very nice.”

“You’re in the spare bedroom?”

“Where else would I be?” 

Alice turned to pick up the keys off of the counter, glancing towards the clock on the wall. It read seven o’clock- time to open.

“I dunno,” she said. She turned the keys over in her hands, letting them jangle loudly. “Virgil, I think it’s really awesome that you’re staying with Patton, but I just want to let you know that you’re welcome at my place anytime. You know, if anything happens.”

Virgil blinked. “What?”

“I’ve only got one bedroom,” Alice said with a wry grin. “Ya bitch is poor, but you’re totally welcome to my futon anytime you need it.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Alice said. She shook the keys at him, smiling playfully. “What are friends for, my dude? Alright, I’m going to go open up before Ricky smells us slacking and comes out to yell at us. Would you mind making me a latte and sticking it in the kitchen?”

Virgil picked up a cup and watched her slide out from behind the counter and cross the room to the front door. His throat felt strangely tight, like it did when he was about to have a panic attack, but he didn’t feel any anxiety. It was several moments before he realized he was smiling. 

He shook his head and turned to go make Alice’s coffee, deciding to savor the warm feeling in his chest for the rest of the morning. 

The day passed slowly. Despite Alice’s attempts to keep the place lively with her very off-tune singing, Virgil was restless by the time his shift was over. As soon as he was free he shed his uniform and pulled on his hoodie, hunching his shoulders against the wind that greeted him outside.

Patton, Roman, and Logan’s apartment was a shorter walk from the coffee shop than he was accustomed to, something that he was quietly grateful for. When he arrived it was empty except for Logan, who was sitting on the sofa with his laptop open and a frown on his face.

“Hi,” he said when Virgil walked in, not looking up from the screen. “Assignment.”

Virgil just smiled awkwardly even though Logan wasn’t looking at him and then darted for the guest bedroom. He shut the door and grabbed his laptop, sitting down on the bed and opening it up. As he waited for the screen to boot up he untangled his headphones, contemplating whether he should start a new show or finish the movie he had been watching last night.

He had just been ready to hit play on the movie when a knock on his door startled him.

“Um,” he said, pulling out one earbud. No one ever came for him except Patton, and that was only at meal times. “Yeah?”

The door opened. It was Logan, his face impassive as he looked in at Virgil.

“Hello,” he said.

There was a pause in which Virgil waited for Logan to continue, and Logan remained silent. “Hey,” Virgil said after a moment. “Do you… do you need something?”

“No,” Logan said. Another pause. Then he said, “Actually, I was thinking of going on a walk. Studies dictate that taking the time to enjoy some fresh air can help with productivity.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. Even though he had no idea why Logan was telling him this, he was fascinated by the way Logan spoke, clipped and succinct, like he was pulling his phrasings from an encyclopedia. “Have fun.”

“Would you like to join me?”

Virgil tugged the other earbud out and let it fall to his lap. “Me?”

“Yes. You,” Logan said, and Virgil thought he could make out the faintest smirk on his face.

“Oh,” Virgil said. He and Logan had never spent any prolonged time alone together. Virgil had assumed that Logan wasn’t interested in getting to know Virgil privately. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Invite me.”

“I don’t understand. Why would I be obligated to invite you?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil said, feeling stupid. 

“I was asking because I would like some companionship,” Logan said. “If you do not wish to join me, I won’t be offended.”

“No,” Virgil said, guilt biting at his throat. If Logan actually wanted Virgil to go, for whatever reason, Virgil didn’t want to upset him by refusing. “No, I’ll- I’d love to come.”

So he put his laptop away and pulled his shoes back on. Logan left to wait in the living room, and when Virgil emerged he was idly tapping away at his phone. 

“Wonderful,” Logan said. He slid his phone neatly back into his pocket, movements as fluid and graceful as always. “Shall we?”

Virgil just nodded.

Logan led the way out of the apartment and down the stairs with Virgil trailing behind him. Although the sun shone clear in the sky, it was brisk, and Virgil was grateful that his hoodie was thick enough to keep him somewhat warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched Logan pause for a moment, look down the sidewalk, and then turn decisively left.

“So, Virgil,” Logan said after they had been walking a moment. He stopped at the curb and checked for cars, squinting into the bright sunlight. “How was work today?”

“Fine,” Virgil said, stepping off the curb and narrowly missing a puddle. “How was class?”

“Dull,” Logan said. “We are discussing stereochemistry once more, a subject that I find exceedingly simplistic.”

“Right,” Virgil said. He hated small talk, especially when it turned into  _ smart  _ talk. “Stereochemistry. That’s… what is that?”

“It’s the study of the spatial arrangement of atoms.”

“Right,” Virgil repeated. What the hell was he supposed to say in response to that? “Sorry, I’m, um- you’re a bit smarter than me.” 

“Hardly. I am fortunate enough to be able to devote my time to higher education, and I retain what I am taught. That does not make me smarter than anyone else.” Logan paused, watching a car drive past. “Except perhaps Roman.”

Virgil chuckled, caught off guard by the joke. 

“Besides, something tells me that you are quite intelligent,” Logan continued.

“Oh, I’m- I’m not,” Virgil said. This was beginning to feel uncomfortably like he was talking to one of his old teachers and being lectured about wasting his potential. “I- I didn’t even finish community college.”

“There is more than one kind of intelligence.”

His voice was light. Virgil stared at his feet, stepping carefully over cracks, wishing that he was somewhere else. Thankfully, Logan swiftly changed the subject. 

“What did you study in college?” he asked.

“I was only there for two years.”

“What did you study?” 

They passed a park Virgil had never seen before. He watched a dog sprint across the grass, uncomfortable. He wasn’t good at talking about himself.

“English,” he said, not wanting to be rude.

“You’re interested in literature?”

“I guess.” 

“That’s fascinating,” Logan said. Virgil glanced at Logan out of the corner of his eye, suspicious, but what he could see of Logan’s face looked genuine. “What did you want to do with an English degree?”

Virgil hesitated, certain that Logan would find it silly with all of the science that he did. Dee had always been so flippant about Virgil’s goals.

“I wanted to write, actually,” he said quietly. The dog was barking excitedly, begging its owner to throw the ball he was waving in front of him. It was a small dog, and when it rocketed across the grass again it was nothing but a blur.

“Writing,” Logan said. He fell silent for a moment, and the only sound was the dog barking and their footsteps on the pavement. “You’re very interesting, Virgil.”

“I know, it’s stupid,” Virgil said, feeling warmth rising in his cheeks.

It took a moment for Virgil to realize Logan had stopped walking. He turned to see Logan staring at him, gaze shrewd behind his thick glasses, sun glancing off the lenses.

“Why would you say that?”

Virgil bit the inside of his cheek, awkwardly digging his hands deeper into his pocket. “I’m not good at it.”

“Well, I haven’t read your work, so I can’t comment on that,” Logan said. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Writing.”

“I don’t know,” Virgil said. “I don’t do it anymore.”

Logan blinked. Virgil had thought Roman beautiful, had looked at his jaw and thought there was nothing more perfect, but the cut of Logan’s cheekbones was strong competition.

“Well,” he said. “ _ That  _ is stupid.”

Virgil just watched as Logan started walking again, brushing past him gracefully. Logan was several paces away before Virgil shook himself and hurried to catch up, frowning hard. 

“What does that mean?” Virgil asked, feeling slightly indignant despite his earlier insistence of what Logan had just affirmed.

“It’s stupid to stop doing something you enjoy,” Logan said. His steps were brisker than they had been before, and Virgil had to focus to keep pace with him. 

“I told you I’m not good at it.”

“Why does that matter?”

“It matters because I bet my career on it,” Virgil said, scowling. “I was studying it even though my writing is shitty.”

“You are very fixated on the quality of your work.”

“It’s kind of important for a writer to be  _ good  _ at writing.”

“Who told you it was shitty?”

Virgil’s step faltered. “What?”

“You got through two years of studying English. I find it difficult to believe you got that far with this negative outlook of your skills. Who told you that your writing is shitty?”

“No one,” Virgil said, even as he felt the ghost of lips against his ear, whispering about how unsustainable his career choice was in the long run, how lacking his stories were in nuance, in artistry. “I just- no one.”

“Then perhaps you should not be quite so quick to believe it,” Logan said. He slowed down just enough for Virgil to catch his breath and not feel as though he was sprinting to keep up. “Have you considered picking it back up again?” 

“No.”

“Well,” Logan said. He glanced at Virgil with a pleasant smile, one that did little to put Virgil’s rolling mind at ease. “If you do, I would be honored to read your work. I doubt that someone such as yourself could be anything short of wonderful with words.”

Virgil’s skin burned to the tips of his ears. “What- what do you mean?” 

“I mean that you are far more intelligent than you seem to give yourself credit for. I enjoy conversing with you, and as such would most likely enjoy your thought process on paper.”

It was an odd compliment, but Virgil recognized it for what it was. A gust of wind blew his bangs across his eyes and he dipped his head, wishing his hair was long enough to hide his entire face from view.

“Who is your favorite author?” Logan asked after a long moment of silence. Virgil seized the silent offer for a subject change.

“Dickens,” he said. 

“You’re being facetious.”

“No,” Virgil said. He frowned, offense cutting through the embarrassment he felt. “You don’t like Dickens?”

“Of course not. He’s far too long-winded.”

Virgil thought that was rich considering the lectures Logan gave Roman on proper dining etiquette, which Virgil had already witnessed several times in the few days he had been staying with them, but he he chose kindly not to bring that up. “It’s not long-winded if it’s good.”

“If you consider good to be cramming as many scenery and character descriptions as possible into a flimsy plot.”

“Flimsy!” Virgil narrowed his eyes at Logan, meeting his smirk head on. “Dickens’ social commentary was unparalleled in his day.”

“Is that so? What’s your favorite work of his?”

“Bleak House.”

Logan raised his head to the sky as though Virgil had just insulted him personally. “Virgil, one of the key plot points in that novel is  _ spontaneous combustion _ .”

“That’s the best part,” Virgil snapped. “It’s such a comically inflated death it makes the whole piece subtly satirized.”

“Subtly?”

“Great Expectations,” Virgil said. “Have you read it?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“How could you not like it?”

“I’ll admit it’s one of his more bearable works.” 

“It’s a masterpiece.”

“How so?”

“It has every aspect of an enduring classic. The characters have become the basis for modern day archetypes, the plot is deceptively simple yet incredibly complex, and the writing- how can you not fall in love with his writing? He was getting paid by the word, yes, but there’s nothing gratuitous about his descriptions.”

“Interesting,” Logan said. “You’ve clearly thought about this a lot.”

“No. I just have good taste,” Virgil shot back without thinking. When his brain caught up with his mouth his eyes widened, but the apology that sprang to his lips was cut short by Logan’s laugh.

“Touche,” he said, amusement in his words. “Well. I must concede a few points to you, but I am not yet convinced that Dickens isn’t entirely overrated.”

Virgil ducked his head, still reeling from the insult he had shot at Logan. Logan hadn’t seemed upset by it, but Virgil felt guilty, upset with himself for letting his temper slip. Who was he to argue with someone so educated?

“Well,” he said, knowing his next few words would be personally painful for him. “I’m probably wrong.”

“I didn’t say that.” The humor was gone from Logan’s voice.

Virgil just shrugged, not looking up from his feet.

Logan sighed, which confused Virgil. He had disappointed Logan somehow. But how, when Virgil had given into his opinion?

“It’s getting late,” Logan said. “We should be heading back.”

The walk back was much quieter. Virgil didn’t attempt to disturb the silence, leaving Logan to his own thoughts and wondering miserably to himself how he always managed to screw things up.

X X X X X

**Dee (6:27 PM): We need to talk.**

“I think we should do something fun tonight,” Patton said. Virgil looked up from his phone, quickly hitting the power button and setting it down on the table. He had a frantic urge to throw it across the room, but instead kept his fingers curled around it in a protective grip. 

“What have you in mind, my lovely star in the night sky?” Roman was reclined back in his seat, one leg kicked up into Logan’s lap beside him. Logan had glared at him at first, but now seemed to have accepted the intrusion into his personal space. He, too, set his phone down to look at Patton. 

“Movie night?” Patton’s smile was bright and hopeful. He had been stacking up the empty dinner dishes when he had been sidetracked by his own idea, and they teetered in a precarious stack in front of him. He had cooked that night, a wonderful stir fry that Virgil had managed to eat half of before a wave of nausea had cut him off. 

“I haven’t got any pressing assignments to do,” Logan said. “I don’t see why we can’t arrange that.” He pinched the hem of Roman’s pants between his fingers and lifted his leg, sliding gracefully out from under it.

“Ow,” Roman said, frowning when Logan dropped his leg unceremoniously back on the chair. “I second that idea, Pat.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed on the table. He snatched it up and glanced at the screen, nausea compounding when he read the short text.

**Dee (6:31 PM): Don’t ignore me, Virgil.**

“Virgil?”

“What?” Virgil dropped his phone and looked up to find the other three staring at him.

“Would you like to join us for a movie night?” Patton asked. 

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Uh- no, that’s alright. You guys go ahead.”

“But you have to! Logan has finally agreed to watch the Princess and the Frog,” Roman said, leaning earnestly towards Virgil in a manner that made him marginally uncomfortable.

“He doesn’t have to do anything,” Logan said. He was restacking the empty plates in a way that was far more stable. “However, we would greatly enjoy your company, Virgil.”

“I’ll make popcorn and everything,” Patton said, and really, all he had to do was smile to get his way with anything he asked of Virgil.

“Um- okay,” Virgil said. He had been hoping to give them some time to themselves, but if they insisted on attempting to make him feel welcome, it would be rude of him to not partake.

“Wonderful,” Roman said. He rose and took the stack of dishes from Logan in one deft movement. “I’ve got it, my love.”

Virgil watched Logan sit back down next to Patton as Roman swept away with the plates. Virgil had been practically forbidden from helping with any of the chores around the house, and not from lack of trying; he might have attempted to assist in secret if he wasn’t afraid of upsetting the other three by going against their wishes. It was odd just sitting here, eating food that someone else had made, allowing the others to take his dish and carry it off to be washed. It was even odder watching them do it in tandem, to see the balanced rhythm that they fell into without needing to discuss it. Virgil was accustomed to having to do all the housework himself, and watching the three divide the tasks made his stomach feel odd.

His phone buzzed again. Virgil grit his teeth and looked at it.

**Dee (6:37 PM): Virgil.**

**Virgil (6:37 PM): I need more time.**

Virgil asked if he could help with the popcorn, but Patton just waved him off with a cheerful grin and sent him to join Logan and Roman in the living room. They were seated on the floor in front of the television, the large cabinet beside it open. They seemed to be rooting through what had to be dozens of DVDs, Logan neatly and methodically, Roman with an almost manic kind of energy.

“Ah, Virgil,” he said, head popping up like a gopher amidst the mess he had already made. A single curl of hair had found its way out of the careful pile atop his head and bobbed onto his forehead. “We’re looking for the Princess and the Frog. Could you check this stack?”

Virgil took the pile he was offered and sank onto his knees near Logan. He glanced at the top one and couldn’t help but exclaim, “You have the Iron Giant!”

“That’s one of our favorites,” Roman said. “You like it?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. He stared down at the cover, nostalgia rearing up in him. “I haven’t seen it in years. Dee says-” He bit down hard on his words and glanced quickly towards Roman, who had stiffened slightly but didn’t look up at Virgil.

“It’s alright, Virgil,” Logan said. His hands sorted through the stack in front of him calmly. “What does he say?” 

“He thinks animated films are childish.” Virgil grabbed the Iron Giant and set it aside, trying to concentrate on actually looking through his pile.

“Including Disney?” Roman sounded personally offended.

“Many people do,” Logan said. “We happen to disagree. If you’d like to watch the Iron Giant sometime soon, I’m certain that Patton would love the excuse for another movie night. Otherwise, you are more than welcome to borrow it anytime, as with all of our DVDs.”

Virgil set aside several more DVDs, focusing resolutely on sorting. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.

**Dee (6:49 PM): I’ve already given you several days. This is getting excessive.**

“Are you alright, Virgil?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, angling his phone screen away from Logan. His eyes caught on the next DVD in his stack. “I, uh- I found the movie.”

“Huzzah!” Roman executed a rather impressive side-roll across the mess they’d created and plucked it out of Virgil’s hands. “Virgil swoops in to save the day once more.”

**Virgil (6:51 PM): I just need time to think.**

**Dee (6:51 PM): You’re with them, aren’t you?**

Virgil helped Roman and Logan put all the DVDs away. They were mostly done when Patton emerged with two big bowls of popcorn, holding them aloft with a grin. “I don’t want to be too corny, but I brought snacks!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil forced a grin as he typed out another message.

**Virgil (6:57 PM): This isn’t about them.**

He shoved his phone in his pocket and vowed to leave it alone for the rest of the night. 

“I’ve got these,” Roman said, taking the remaining DVDs from Virgil’s arms. “Go sit down, Virge.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said, slightly thrown off by the nickname. He moved to the end of the sofa and sat down, watching awkwardly as Patton set the popcorn down on the coffee table and Logan put the movie in. 

“I love a good fairytale,” Patton said, sitting down next to Virgil. He was near enough that Virgil felt his presence like a firm weight, but far enough to be respectful, and Virgil realized with a start that they would probably all want to sit together on the couch.

“I can move,” he said, already shifting to stand and move to the armchair, but Patton reached out and touched his knee to still him.

“Oh- sorry,” he said, yanking his hand away with wide eyes when Virgil froze.

“No,” Virgil said quickly. He swallowed. He made everything so weird. “It’s- it’s fine.”

Patton continued to look at him doubtfully for a few seconds, but when Virgil managed a small smile, his expression relaxed back into a cheerful grin. 

“There’s plenty of space on the couch,” he said. “You can stay there if you’d like.”

Part of Virgil didn’t want to, but the other part of him- maybe his knee, which was close enough to Patton’s that they would be touching if he shifted just a few inches- decided he ought to stay.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket. He crossed his arms and watched as Roman came to sit beside Patton, grabbing his hand and lifting it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to it. Patton giggled in time with the buzzing against Virgil’s thigh.

“Will you get the lights, Lo?” Roman asked as Logan finished setting up the movie and the opening scene faded onto the screen.

Virgil pulled his phone out, shielding the screen when the lights went out and thrust them into dimness. 

**Dee (6:58 PM): Of course this is about them. Are you with them?**

**Dee (7:00 PM): You are.**

**Dee (7:03 PM): It doesn’t matter right now. I need to see you.**

Virgil bit his bottom lip hard. The other three were settling onto the couch beside him, pressed together in a tangle of limbs, Roman’s arm thrown around Patton’s shoulders and Logan’s hand on Roman’s thigh, one cohesive knot of affection.

Virgil felt supremely out of place.

**Virgil (7:07 PM): Give me a few more days.**

**Dee (7:08 PM): Having fun over there, are we?**

**Dee (7:09 PM): I will remind you that we are still very much together, Virgil.**

**Virgil (7:12 PM): I know we are.**

**Virgil (7:12 PM): Please. A few more days.**

The first song of the movie started up. Roman sang along to it in a low tone, rocking to the beat and making his partners sway with him. Virgil normally enjoyed Disney movies, but he just stared at the screen without comprehending it until his phone buzzed again.

**Dee (7:15 PM): Fine. But I expect you to speak to me soon. Alone. Understood?**

**Virgil (7:16 PM): Yes.**

Fingers brushed the back of Virgil’s hand. Virgil startled and dropped his phone into his lap, hurriedly turning it off so his screen was hidden.

“Sorry,” Patton whispered. Beside him, Roman raised his voice to a pitch that didn’t suit his vocal range, but that he had apparently decided was how he was going to sing all of Tiana’s parts. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, even though his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking and the phone in his lap felt as though it were burning him.

He blinked in surprise when Patton’s fingers touched his again. He looked down and watched dumbly as Patton slowly slipped his hand into Virgil’s.

“This okay?” he whispered, his grip gentle but cautious. 

All Virgil could do was nod.

Patton seemed pleased. He turned back to the movie, Virgil’s hand tucked in his. Virgil stared at the screen, at the familiar scene playing in front of him, trying to forget that Patton was holding his hand and oh god Patton was holding his hand what if his palms were sweaty or his fingers twitched or he made it weird somehow?

Virgil’s phone buzzed again, and he felt the absurd urge to cry. Instead he narrowed his eyes at the television, glaring at the crocodile onscreen. It would be Dee again, perhaps asking Virgil to meet him earlier, and although Virgil had managed to stick to his week-long promise to stay away from him he could already feel his resolve crumbling. He was being silly, childish; he was an adult man in an adult relationship and he shouldn’t be hiding from his problems like this. He should be trying to talk them out with Dee, trying to communicate instead of staying holed away and letting everyone else around him take care of him.

A pressure on his fingers drew his scowl away from the screen. He dropped his gaze to see Patton squeezing his hand, then raised them to see Patton’s wide blue eyes fixed on him.

“Hey,” he whispered. His expression was lit only by the pale green of the screen, making him look even softer than usual. “Is something up?”

Virgil forced his face to relax, forced a small smile, and shook his head. 

“Need to talk?”

Virgil shook his head again. Patton’s hand in his was warm. Roman was still humming on the other side of him, and Logan seemed to be muttering something about how the magic in the movie didn’t quite add up.

Patton let go of his hand. Virgil had a moment of disorienting confusion, a slap to the face that told him he had done something wrong, Patton was pulling away and taking his warmth- and then Patton’s arm was around his shoulder, the soft fabric of his cardigan brushing the back of Virgil’s neck. 

“Is this okay?” Patton asked again, his lips so close to Virgil’s ear that Virgil had to tense up to repress the shiver that ran up his spine.

He swallowed past the knot in his throat and nodded. 

“I wonder which specific loas Facilier is attempting to contact,” Logan said as Virgil hesitantly let his head fall back against Patton’s arm, slumping a bit to make it more comfortable for them both. 

“Do you mean his friends on the other side?” Roman asked, and even his words sounded like a melody. 

“No. The gods of voudon culture are called loa and-”

“It’s the song, Microsoft Nerd. And as attractive as I find your breadth of knowledge, he’s about to sing it, so shush.” 

Virgil wrapped his arms around himself and watched the screen. He could feel Patton breathing beside him, feel the hums of his body when he giggled at his partners. His arm was like a warm blanket, and his thumb, rubbing small circles into Virgil’s shoulder, was the steady beat of Virgil’s heart. Virgil focused on the sensations. Dee never made him feel like this, never swathed Virgil in comfort that spread warmth into his toes. If Dee were here, he would have asked for more by now, would have let his hands explore without asking.

_ Is this okay? _

Why had Patton asked? It wasn’t as though he was doing anything wrong. His touch was harmless, soothing. He wasn’t taking anything, but he had still asked, and it had tied Virgil’s stomach up in knots.

_ Is this okay?  _

Virgil turned his head slowly, let his cheek rest against Patton’s soft cardigan. It smelled like lavender, just like every batch of laundry did here. Patton’s fingers squeezed Virgil’s shoulder gently, a reminder that he was still there, and Virgil’s lips moved on their own.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against the fuzzy fabric. He needed to make sure that he wasn’t taking anything, that he was reading Patton’s actions right.

He felt Patton’s chuckle deep in his chest. “Yes,” he said to the top of Virgil’s head. “Yes, Virgil, this is okay.”

Appeased, Virgil let his eyes slip shut. He drifted along to the movie, to Roman’s singing and Logan’s sharp quips, to the warmth wrapped around him.

When he opened his eyes again he was in the guest bedroom. He looked sleepily up at the dark ceiling for a moment, waiting for the panic to kick in, waiting for his brain to start questioning how he had gotten here and why he had fallen asleep in one place and woken up in another.

But he was too tired to be anxious. He closed his eyes and wrapped himself tighter in the quilt, letting himself fall back into sleep.

X X X X X

Virgil handed over the caramel latte to the teenager who had ordered it with a smile. He felt strangely positive today; the sun was poking out from behind the clouds for the first time all week and Ricky had told him he could leave early. He wasn’t used to a string of positive events happening to him so early in the morning, and it had thrown his usual negativity off. 

“You’ve got a pep in your step today,” Alice said, watching him from the register. “What happened to Mr. Doom and Gloom?”  
“I had an extra coffee this morning,” Virgil said, picking up the next drink and reading the writing on the cup. He had to squint to make out Alice’s scrawl. He had mostly figured out how to translate it by now, but sometimes it still took a bit of time. 

“Right,” Alice said. “It has nothing to do with our favorite customer showing up with you this morning, does it?”  

“Who?” Virgil asked, pulling out the almond milk and pouring a small measure in the cup.

“Are you telling me that you were unaware of Patton walking you up to the door and giving you a very adorable hug goodbye?” 

“He was going the same way as me,” Virgil said with a shrug. He stuck the cup under the espresso machine and pressed the on button. “The preschool is one block over.”

“Is it.” Alice didn’t sound convinced, but Virgil was in too good of a mood to be irritated with her teasing. 

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Alice said, following him over to the pick-up counter. “Does it ever get weird?”

“Does what get weird? Jasmine!” He slid the drink to the woman and turned to find Alice watching him. That made him frown, just a bit. “What?”

“Well, they’re…” She waved one hand. “They’re all in one relationship, you know? Does it ever get a little weird?” 

“No,” Virgil said slowly. “I mean, it’s not like they sit around making out all day. They’re just normal people.”

“I know,” Alice said. “But don’t you, like… hear stuff?”

“Hear-? Oh, Alice,” Virgil groaned. He snatched up a dish towel lying on the counter and threw it at her.

Alice caught it deftly and laughed. “What?” she asked. “You had to have wondered.”

“No, I have not,” Virgil said. “And neither should you.”

“Alright, fine,” Alice said. A customer approached the register and she flashed a peace sign as a truce before heading over to ring up their order. 

Virgil turned away and looked at the espresso machine. Oh, god… He wished Alice hadn’t brought it up, because he had never considered it, never thought about the actual details of their relationship. Was it a weird situation? It didn’t feel like it. They didn’t hide the fact that they were together- there were lots of pet names and cuddling during movies and the occasional kiss here and there- but if they were normally more explicit in their love, they had seriously toned it down for Virgil’s sake. For the most part they felt like any normal set of roommates.

Normal roommates that all shared the same bedroom, which Virgil resolutely stayed out of to provide them with that last bit of privacy. It had been a subconscious choice, to never enter their bedroom, but now he was glad of it. 

They had to do… things. It would be weird if they didn’t. Or they did when Virgil wasn’t in the house. Virgil had been staying with them for several days now, and he hadn’t even thought about the prospect of… interrupting anything. Was he a bad house guest for not even considering it? 

“You’re blushing,” Alice murmured as she passed him on the way to the coffee machine.

“I’m not.” Virgil’s good mood had dissipated. Now he just felt uncomfortable, and warm all over every time his thoughts strayed too far into the technicalities behind their relationship.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced behind him to make sure only Alice was there and then pulled it out, glancing at the incoming call. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the familiar contact.

“Uh, Alice,” he said. “Do you mind if I take this?”

“Just don’t let Ricky see,” Alice said, not looking up from the chocolate she was drizzling over whipped cream.

Virgil slipped out from behind the counter. He waited until he was several feet away before raising it to his ear and taking a slow, steadying breath.

“Hello?”

“Virgil.” Dee’s voice was short but smooth. It had only been a few days, but it felt as though Virgil hadn’t heard him speak in weeks.                       

“Dee,” Virgil said. He couldn’t help but feel relieved at the familiar voice. “Are… are you okay?”

“I still have a rather inconvenient headache,” Dee said, “but I am fine.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. He faced a fake houseplant, staring at the plastic leaves. “That’s… that’s good. I was worried.”

“So worried that you left me lying there on the ground to run off with that… friend of yours?” 

“Dee-”

“Drop it, Virgil. I didn’t call to speak about that.” 

“Okay,” Virgil said, even though it wasn’t. “What- what did you call about?” 

“My mother is sick.”

Virgil exhaled heavily. “Dee-”

“I have to fly out to take care of her.”

“Of course. When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Virgil repeated. “That’s… soon. When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Whenever she’s well enough to take care of herself, I suppose. At least a week, I’m assuming.”

“Wow,” Virgil said. He reached out to touch a fake leaf, pinching it between his fingers absentmindedly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You’ve done quite enough already.”

“Dee, I’m-”

“We need to talk about several things, Virgil. It will have to wait until I get back, but when I do…”

“Of course,” Virgil said. “Of course. I’m… I’m sorry that I left. I was…”

“We can discuss it later.” Dee’s voice softened a bit. “I just wanted to know… are you alright? You have somewhere to stay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“That’s good. You can come back to the apartment anytime, you know.”

“I know. I just… I need to clear my head. Just until you get back. And then…”

“And then we’ll talk,” Dee said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Virgil said. 

“I miss you, Virgil.”

“I-” Virgil’s fingers twisted and yanked the plastic leaf off of the plastic branch. He stared down at it. “I miss you too.”

“I have to get going now. I’ll let you know when I’ll be back when I have more information.”

“Okay. I hope your mother is alright.”

“Me too.” The line fell silent. “Goodbye, Virgil.”

“Bye.”

Virgil lowered his phone. The coffee shop had seemed quiet when Dee’s voice had been in his ear, but now the sound resurged around him, people talking and laughing and coffee machines whirring. He stared at his empty screen, half wishing he could call Dee back and get this all sorted out right now.

“Virgil?” Virgil looked up to see that a small line had formed at the counter. Alice was smiling a little manically. “Uh, help?”

Virgil put his phone away and hurried back to the counter, dropping the plastic leaf he had pulled off of the plant. It fluttered to the ground, twirling in the air and disappearing from sight. 

X X X X X

Virgil adapted to the new routine with such ease he didn’t even notice he  _ had  _ a new routine until it was upset. He picked up more shifts at work to keep himself out of the apartment so that he was gone early almost every morning and didn’t get back until late in the evening. He spent most nights by himself watching movies or wasting time away on Tumblr, emerging only for dinner or when he was coerced to join a board game or movie night. He liked the times they sat down to play Cards Against Humanity or Jenga best; if he ignored everything else that was happening, he could almost pretend that it was a month ago, and he was over for a simple game night that didn’t end in some kind of personal tragedy for him.

He texted Dee occasionally. Virgil was worried about both him and his mother. Dee had always been so close to her, and Virgil wished he could be there for him even though every text he received from Dee sent him spiralling close to a panic attack. Dee wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone, he said, but he wanted to talk to Virgil as soon as he got back. Virgil agreed that that would be best. 

The new routine continued.

The week-long ‘term’ that Virgil had set for himself came and went. He was anxious that the other three would bring it up and encourage him to go home, but thankfully no one said anything. Virgil knew he was being silly, because Dee wasn’t even  _ at  _ the apartment, so Virgil should have been fine going back. But he held his tongue and kept his head down and told himself that as long as they didn’t say anything, it was alright if he overstayed his welcome just a little bit. Just until Dee got back. 

The change in the comfortable monotony Virgil had settled into came a few days after a week had passed. Virgil didn’t have to be at work until noon, so Patton had convinced him to come out and join them for breakfast. 

Virgil was busy trying to dig a well of milk in his granola when Roman emerged from the bedroom already dressed for the day. Virgil always felt a little irritated at the other man for his overwhelming energy despite never touching a drop of coffee, and today was no different as he threw his arms wide and said, “It’s showtime, babies!” 

“Hate that term of endearment,” Logan muttered into his coffee cup. He must have been up late working on an assignment, because the bags under his eyes could rival Virgil’s, as did his grimace at Roman’s shout. 

“Good morning, love,” Patton said, standing to peck Roman on the cheek when he joined them at the table. “Excited for opening day?”

Virgil looked up from his spoon as Roman dropped into a seat and grabbed the box of granola. “Exceedingly nervous, actually,” he said, shaking out a bowl for himself. “But I thrive off of the pressure.”

“You’ll be amazing,” Patton said. “It’s at eight tonight, right?”

“Yes, m’dear,” Roman said. He rested his chin on his fist and grinned at Virgil, glowing too brightly too early in the morning. “You’re still coming?”

“If you want,” Virgil said, poking at the dregs of milk in his bowl.

“Of course I want. I need all my favorite people in the audience, don’t I?” 

Virgil ducked his head to hide his warm cheeks, mumbling something about a shower as he grabbed his bowl and excused himself from the table. 

Roman said things like that sometimes. Patton did as well. Both of them, far too generous with their terms of endearment, probably didn’t understand that no one had ever said those things to Virgil before. He had never been anyone’s favorite anything, except perhaps Dee, but even he had never outright told Virgil anything like that. Virgil knew that they were just being kind, that he was nothing but an interloper they had taken in like a stray off the street, so it hurt when they let those things slip out. 

It hurt because it wasn’t true, and they all knew it, even if they felt the need to say it for some reason.

In the guest bedroom, Virgil sighed and pressed his face into his hands. He still had an hour before he had to leave. He might as well shower.

X X X X X

Virgil crossed one leg over the other and grabbed his ankle nervously. It was only minutes before the show was due to start, and even though he wasn’t the one performing he could feel anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach. Nearly every seat was filled in the small theater, and although Virgil was grateful seats Roman had reserved for them, he wished he was up in the balcony or in the corner of the room instead of dead center in the second row.

“Oh, it’s starting,” Patton squealed beside Virgil when the lights began to dim. He tapped Logan’s hand, which he had been holding since they had taken their seats, and turned towards the stage with wide eyes. 

Virgil fidgeted as the first actor strode onto stage. He didn’t go to live performances very often, and he hadn’t known what to wear- or say or do or anything at all. He had opted for a plain black sweater and dark jeans he had bought to have on hand while he wasn’t at his apartment, and had stuck close to Patton and Logan as they had arrived and found their seats. Now he was grateful for the low lights and the chance to turn his attention on something besides himself. 

Roman didn’t enter the first scene until the very end. Virgil still found it interesting even though he had never much cared for plays before. The show had the ambiance of Shakespeare with a modern flair to it that kept even Virgil’s attention, and he found himself laughing along to several of the opening jokes, reaching up to press his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

Then Roman walked onstage, and Virgil straightened in his seat to see better, smile dropping. 

Roman looked every bit the prince he was playing. The red sash he was wearing shone under the lights, and everything down to the way he stood when listening to the other characters cried royalty. He was utterly captivating when he spoke, and although Virgil had become accustomed to his over dramatic monologues, it was different to see them spoken onstage. 

Roman’s features stood out under the lights, his words rang through the theatre, and Virgil thought it unfair that they made others stand there at the same time as him, that others had to try to stand out amidst his shine. Virgil lost track of the storyline, too fixated on the sway of Roman’s hips as he crossed the stage. At one point one of the characters died, but Virgil was too captivated by Roman’s hands clutching his sword to remember which one it was. 

“What do you think?” Patton asked when the lights came up for intermission and the curtain fell. Roman had given the ending monologue, a dramatic one that had tied Virgil’s throat up in knots. 

“Um,” Virgil said, still too shocked from the fact that Roman was apparently capable of crying on command to think of anything worthwhile to say. “It’s… really good.”

“Yes, he’s very talented,” Logan said, frowning up at the curtain. “I told him to wear a darker shade of contour, though. The one that his makeup artist uses is much too cool toned for stage lights.” 

“I’m going to go get a water,” Patton said, standing up. “Do you want anything, Virgil?”

Virgil shook his head and watched Patton weave his way out of the row. 

He half-expected Logan to try and make small talk, but he had picked up the program and was reading the director’s note. Feeling awkward with everyone chatting around him, Virgil pulled out his phone and was startled to find a new message.

**Dee (8:16 PM): My mother’s getting better. I should be coming back in three days.**

Three days.

The theatre fell silent in Virgil’s ears. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, threatening to type something- Virgil didn’t know what. 

“I got us all waters.” Virgil looked up to see Patton grinning at him, three water bottles balanced in his arms. “Here you are!”

“Thanks, Pat,” Virgil said softly, accepting the water. He put it in his lap and turned his attention back to his phone as Patton and Logan discussed the performance beside him.

**Virgil (9:03 PM): Okay. I’m glad.**

The rest of the play passed quickly, culminating in Roman’s rather abrupt death scene. When his sword flashed high in the air and then dropped suddenly, Patton gasped, free hand flying up to press over his mouth. Virgil managed to tear his eyes away from the stage long enough to see wetness shining on Patton’s cheeks, reflecting the bright stage lights. He was concerned until Logan grabbed his hand, leaning in to mutter something in Patton’s ear. Patton sniffed and shifted to lean his head on Logan’s shoulder.

Virgil looked away, hands wrapped around the cold, untouched water bottle in his lap. 

When the curtains rose for the final bow, all three of them got to their feet. Patton cheered the loudest, clapping and cheering wildly when Roman stepped to the center of the stage and twirled into an elaborate bow. He was beaming, and Virgil couldn’t help but smile as he watched him. He clapped until his hands stung. 

The theatre lapsed into mumbling when the curtains fell again and the lights rose. Virgil clutched his water bottle and program close and watched Patton scrub at his eyes. His nose was red.

“Are you alright, Patton?” Virgil asked, his voice quiet and easily lost in the mutterings of the crowd. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” Patton said, his smile watery. He bent down to pick up the bouquet of roses lying at his feet with a sniffle. “I just get a little emotional sometimes, don’t mind me.”

“Perfectly understandable, darling,” Logan said, leaning in and kissing Patton softly. 

Virgil stared at his feet and waited until the two were ready to leave. 

They had promised to meet Roman outside the theater by the back door. They moved along with the slow crowd as everyone filed out of the theatre, Patton holding fast to Logan’s hand and looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure Virgil was following close.

“I need to stop by the bathroom,” Patton said, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “I’ll meet you outside. Can you hold these, Virgil?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Virgil said, taking the bouquet of flowers from him. He watched Patton slide through the crowd to the bathroom door, making sure that he made it there without being jostled by everyone trying to leave.

“Coming, Virgil?” Virgil looked to see Logan waiting, and Virgil nodded hurriedly, heat rising in his cheeks. 

Virgil followed Logan as he shoved his way through the crowd, following the path he carved out of the throng. When they finally broke through outside Virgil could feel the beginnings of panic bubbling in his chest- too many people shoving him, elbows everywhere- and he clutched the bouquet of flowers close, trying to draw some peace from them. He trailed after Logan down the steps where they stood apart from the rest of the crowd.

“So you enjoyed the show?” Logan asked after a few silent moments. Virgil looked up from the flowers. They were a beautiful deep red, and Virgil had always loved the look of bouquets. It was large, and must have been expensive; Virgil felt as though he were handling something very precious. 

“Oh, yes,” Virgil said, hoping to convey just how much he appreciated being there to see it. “I had no idea that Roman was that good.”

Logan’s smile was warm under the pale light cutting across the sidewalk from the theatre’s open door. It was dark out, and what stars made it through the city’s light pollution twinkled overhead. 

Logan looked as though he was about to say something, but Patton appeared at his elbow at that moment, face clear and smile intact. 

“Come on,” he said eagerly, taking Logan’s hand. “Let’s go meet Roman!” 

They walked around the side of the theater, through the parking lot to a much less populated area. There were a few groups of people waiting outside of a closed side door, many with bouquets of flowers similar to the one Virgil was holding. Virgil wrapped his fingers around the stems, running his thumb over the cut edges, uncertain if he should offer it back to Patton or if he was expected to hold onto it until they were ready to give it to Roman. Deciding that this job was better than no job at all, he kept a firm hold of them as they waited. 

After several minutes the door started to open and groups of people Virgil recognized from the show began to filter out. Patton and Logan waved at many of them, wishing them congratulations as they left, while Virgil stood slightly apart from them, feeling wildly out of place.

Finally, when almost everyone else had left, the door opened and a familiar smile appeared.

“Roman!” Patton cried and ran forward, throwing himself at his boyfriend. Roman caught him easily and laughed, returning the hug with as much force as he received it with. “It was so, so good, darling!”

“Thank you,” Roman said, releasing Patton and swooping in to kiss him. It was a passionate kiss, and though Roman was out of costume he still looked every inch the prince he had been onstage. Virgil didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at him any other way.  

Logan approached next, and Roman gave him a fond, much quieter hug and gentle kiss. Virgil lingered several feet away as Logan murmured things to him, congratulations and compliments that no one else could hear. Virgil tried to catch Patton’s eye so that he could hand over the roses to him, but Patton was watching his boyfriends embrace with a fondness that Virgil didn’t want to interrupt. He already felt as though he were intruding. 

When Logan had stepped away, Roman turned his eyes on Virgil. He was back in a simple t-shirt and dark jeans, but he was still wearing his stage makeup. It was dramatic and intense, and his dark eyeshadow made his eyes huge in the near darkness. He didn’t look real, he was far too perfect to be standing in this dark side alley, but here he was, looking right at Virgil. 

“Um,” Virgil said when the silence dragged on. Was he supposed to say something now? Was he supposed to have a turn? “You were- really good.” He turned and tried to hold the roses out to Patton. Patton smiled and reached for them, but just wrapped his own fingers around Virgil’s briefly before releasing him.

“Those are for Roman, silly,” he said, his voice fond.

Virgil swallowed. He turned back towards Roman, who was still looking at him, and took a deep breath before shoving the flowers towards him. “These are from Patton and Logan,” he said. 

“From  _ all  _ of us,” Patton said behind him. 

“Thank you, Virgil,” Roman said, accepting the flowers. Virgil dropped his eyes to his feet, feeling a deep flush come across his face and taking a moment to appreciate how dark it was outside. “What did you think?”

“It was wonderful,” Virgil said. “Really, Roman, you were so good. You… you make a good prince.”

“Well,” Roman said. When Virgil peeked up at him, he was surprised to see that he looked almost flustered. “I always thought I fit the role, as well.”

Virgil bit down on a smile. “Shut up, princey.”

“Princey? I like that one.” Roman’s wink stood out with his eyeliner. Then his grin evened out into something more gentle. “Thank you, Virgil.”

A woman stepped out of the door behind him, and Roman looked back with a huge smile. “Oh, Dorothy,” he said, beckoning her over with his free hand. “I have someone to introduce you to.”

“Well, hello everyone,” the woman, Dorothy, said as she approached. She was an older woman with simple makeup and a bright green scarf wrapped around her shoulders. “Patton, Logan! It’s wonderful to see you two again,” she said, reaching out and giving them each a warm handshake. Then she turned her gaze on Virgil, and her thin eyebrows shot up. “My goodness, have you three collected another one?”

“No, Dorothy,” Roman said as Virgil’s cheeks burned. “This is our very dear friend Virgil. Virgil, this is Dorothy Simmons, the director. We’ve worked together several times.”

“Roman is my favorite little diva,” Dorothy said. She offered her hand to Virgil, who took it awkwardly. “It’s lovely to meet you, dear.”

“You too,” Virgil said, still reeling from her earlier comment. “I really enjoyed the show.” 

“Thank you!” Dorothy beamed around at them. “Have you all plans to celebrate tonight?”

“I may or may not have gotten a bottle of sparkling cider for us,” Roman said, grinning roguishly, and Dorothy laughed. 

“Then don’t let me keep you,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Roman. Patton, Logan, you are welcome to our shows at anytime. You too, Virgil!”

The other two exchanged goodbyes while Virgil just smiled politely. When Dorothy had wandered off to speak to another group lingering nearby, Roman turned to them, brandishing his roses. 

“I wasn’t lying about that sparkling cider,” he said. He offered his arm to Logan, who rolled his eyes but took it. “Shall we?”

They had parked Roman’s car nearby. Logan slid into the driver’s seat when they reached it and Roman loudly declared that he had shotgun, sprinting ahead to grab it and leaving Patton and Virgil to slide into the back. 

“That was so fun,” Patton said as they pulled out from the parking spot. He smiled at Virgil and Virgil smiled back.

The car was warm and quiet in a sleepy way despite Roman’s steady buzz of excitement. He and Logan struck up a steady conversation about the plot of the show while Patton leaned his head against the window and dozed. Virgil stared outside, watching the dark buildings pass, trying to soak in the general calmness of the car.

Then his phone buzzed. His pulse quickened as he pulled it out and looked.

**Dee (10:37 PM): I’ll see you soon.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sliding in to get this up on Deceit's birthday! I know he's the antagonist in this story, but I want to wish a very happy birthday to our slimy boi. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for getting this story to 1000 hits! That's honestly insane. I appreciate each and every single one of you for sharing this piece and for all the kudos and comments. I really appreciate it and it really inspires me to see all the positive responses, so please- keep them coming! ;) I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you have a great day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: strong language, emotional/verbal abuse.

“What about Valentine’s Day?” Patton asked. He tore off a piece of the blueberry muffin Virgil had given him and popped it in his mouth. “Doesn’t Starbucks do Valentine’s Day drinks?”

“We aren’t Starbucks,” Virgil said, sprinkling chocolate flakes on top of the drink he was making. “Besides, that stuff is just the regular coffee dyed pink with triple the amount of sugar.”

“Since when have you cared about sugar content? I saw you eat four cupcakes in a row the other night.”

Virgil looked up from the lids to find Patton grinning at him. “You offered,” he said, unable to stop the smile that was working its way onto his face.

“Even I stop after three.”

“Yeah, well, you’re sweet enough without all that extra sugar,” Virgil said, then felt heat flood into his face as Patton pressed his hand over his mouth and giggled. “I mean-”

“I’ll just finish this for you.” Alice swooped in next to Virgil’s elbow and grabbed the drink he was making, shooting him a very disconcerting look out of the corner of her eye as she moved away with it. 

“I feel like I’m distracting you,” Patton said, tugging at the hem of his sweater. Virgil’s eyes tracked the movement unconsciously, caught on his exposed collarbone.

“Nah,” he said. “Alice is just being annoying.” A swift kick to his ankle made him wince, and he whirled around to snap, “I’ll tell Ricky you’ve been hoarding scones in the cupboard.”

“And I’ll tell him you were the one who dropped all our straws into the trash last week.” Alice stuck out her tongue out at him and disappeared into the kitchen before he could retaliate. 

Virgil rolled his eyes and turned back around. Patton was picking through the muffin, elbows on the counter. “You seem like you have a lot of fun here,” he said.

Virgil shrugged and leaned his hip against the counter. “It’s fine, I guess. I bet you have more fun at the preschool.” 

Patton ate another piece of muffin and chewed slowly. He looked as soft as usual, framed by the warm coffee shop behind him. The damp weather outside had curled his hair at his temples, and his glasses slid to the end of his nose as he stared down at the pastry. Virgil had the urge to reach out and push them back up.

“It’s been a bit tough these past few weeks, actually,” Patton said, not looking up at Virgil. 

Virgil noted the change in his demeanor, a hesitance, and frowned. “The kids?” 

“No.” Patton smiled, dimples showing. “No, the kids are great. It’s, um… the other teachers.” He laughed a bit and shook his head. “God, I sound like a high schooler.”

“What about the other teachers?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Patton said, breaking the last piece of muffin in half. It crumbled in his fingers.

“Patton.”

Patton raised his head, and Virgil was startled to see uncharacteristic gloom in his eyes. Virgil felt some long-forgotten protective part of him rear up in response, and he curled his fingers into his arm to avoid storming out from behind the counter to find whoever had upset the man in front of him.

“They don’t like my lifestyle choices very much,” Patton admitted. “I mean, they’re not mean about it or anything, but I can feel that they don’t approve. I’ve tried to make friends with them, but nothing gets through.”

“But that’s not your fault,” Virgil said. When Patton just sighed, Virgil leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter to mirror Patton and draw his attention back. “Hey. You don’t have control over what other people think of you. You only have control over what you think of yourself.” 

“But I made them cookies,” Patton said, and he sounded so miserable that Virgil reached out to touch his arm. Patton dropped his eyes to his hand, but Virgil steeled himself against his impending embarrassment. 

“I know it sucks when people don’t like you,” Virgil said. “But you have so many other people in your life- people who matter- who love you. You have Logan and Roman and-” Virgil pressed his fingers against the soft fabric of Patton’s sweater. “And loads of people. You can’t let a few assholes get you down.”

Patton laughed and reached up to dab at his eyes. “I know,” he said, dropping his gaze. “I’m- I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”

“You’re not.” Virgil shook his head. “You’re not. It’s alright to be upset, Patton.”

Patton blinked, eyelashes fluttering. Even with tears in his eyes, he managed to look pretty, too pretty for Virgil to look at, let alone touch. But he was touching him, his fingers were resting on his arm, and as he watched Patton moved to grab those fingers and give them a small squeeze.

“Thanks, Virgil,” he said. His hand was warm. “I needed that.”

“It’s nothing,” Virgil said, all of his attention fixed on the sensation of Patton’s hand in his.

“No, it isn’t,” Patton said. He was silent for a moment. Virgil kept looking at their joined hands. “You’re sweet.”

Virgil shook his head so his bangs fell across his eyes. “I’m not,” he murmured.

His breath caught in his throat when he felt lips press against his cheek. They were soft and gentle and warm warm warm, and they were gone far too soon. 

Virgil’s head snapped up as Patton pulled back across the counter, smiling gently at him. “You’re sweet,” he repeated.

Virgil might have gaped at Patton forever had a clanging behind him not startled them both. When he looked, Alice had dropped a tray of cookies on the counter behind him, and was looking at him with a raised brow. 

“Sorry,” she said.

“I should probably get going,” said Patton. Virgil turned to see him straightening up, happy grin already fixed back on his face. “Work beckons! Will you be home for dinner, Virgil?”

“Uh- yes,” Virgil said. He felt dumb, slow, like he was swimming through mud.

“Yay!” Patton beamed. “Thank you so much for the muffin, kiddo. Alice- it was super great to see you!” 

Alice waved at him, and then Patton was gone, taking his soft sweater and soft lips and warmth with him.

Virgil stared across the room at the closed door for several moments until a low whistle behind him drew his attention back to Alice.

“Holy shit,” she said, leaning back against the counter with a grin. “You are  _ whipped _ .”

Virgil picked up Patton’s empty plate. “I’m not,” he said, walking to the dish bin and dropping it in. 

“You so are. Aw, look at you, you’re blushing!” 

“I’m not,” Virgil snapped. He reached over to snatch the tray out from under her, sliding the back of the dessert case open. 

“It’s okay, V,” Alice said. She was smiling so hard it must have hurt. “You two are adorable. All of you are, actually.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Virgil started shoving cookies into the display case a bit more haphazardly than he would have usually done. 

“There’s no need to get so flustered, Virgil. It’s totally okay if you and sweater boy want to hold hands and-”

“Drop it, Alice!” 

Alice fell silent. Virgil stood up, mood soured, and dropped the tray back onto the counter with a clang.

It was a good thing there were no customers around. The shop was quiet except for the distant hum of the machinery at work behind them.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said after a moment. Virgil lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling her approaching cautiously behind him. “I’m sorry, that was shitty of me. I know you just broke up with your boyfriend, and-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Virgil said. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’ve been- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“It’s okay.” 

“No, it isn’t.” 

“Virgil,” Alice said, and Virgil forced himself to turn around, to raise his eyes to her chin. “Are you… do you need to talk? About anything?”

“No,” Virgil said. “I’m fine.”

Alice’s mouth twisted. “Okay,” she said. “Just let me know if you do, alright?”

Virgil didn’t know why his throat clenched the way it did. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, hard enough for it to sting, and nodded.

Alice’s smile wasn’t quite what it had been before, but it was still bright. “Alright, I’m going to go bully Jordan into sneaking us a croissant. Wish me luck?”

“Luck,” Virgil said, his voice quiet as she slipped behind the curtain back into the kitchen.

X X X X X

Virgil’s heart was pounding. 

He raised a hand and pressed it to his chest, feeling his own pulse even through the thick fabric of his hoodie. He tried to take a deep breath, to remember what he had been taught years and years ago during his brief stint in therapy, but it was hard when his nerves felt like they were made of popping candy all going off under his skin. It was an itchy feeling. He felt itchy and far too warm, but he wasn’t about to take off his hoodie.

He had ordered a coffee, which sat untouched on the table in front of him. He reached out to toy with the paper sleeve, nervous gaze moving across the shop. He was at Starbucks; Virgil had insisted on meeting in public, and he had figured that being in a coffee shop might lend him a bit of comfort.

It didn’t, but at least he had caffeine steadily available.

Virgil’s hand twitched when he spotted him in the doorway, his fingers knocking into the cup and then steadying it just before it toppled over. He watched without breathing as Dee’s head swiveled, eyes narrowed, before alighting on Virgil.

He smiled. Virgil tried to smile back.

Dee was only in line for a few minutes. Virgil watched him chat and laugh with the barista, tucking a tip into the jar when they handed over his coffee. Then he was turning and walking towards Virgil and Virgil’s pulse was skyrocketing again, and oh god why did he feel the urge to run-

“Virgil,” Dee said. He dropped down smoothly into the seat across from him, face creased in a grin. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Virgil wrapped his hand around his coffee, grateful for the warmth. He wished it was hot enough to soak through the paper cup, to numb. “How- how’s your mother?” Familiar humiliation bubbled up in him as he stuttered. He had been so determined to stand his ground, but he could already feel his resolve crumbling. 

“Much improved,” Dee said. “She had a nasty case of pneumonia, but she’s mostly over it now. She just has to stay off her feet for another week or so.”

“That’s good,” Virgil said.

“Yes.” Dee raised his coffee and took a long, slow sip, dark eyes fixed on Virgil over the rim. Virgil tried to hold his gaze, but after only seconds he dropped his head to stare at his own hands.

“How have you been?” Dee asked.

“Fine,” Virgil said.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Dee said. “I’ve missed you.”

Virgil’s fingers were twitching. He watched them curiously, watched them tremble as though they were something separate from him.

“Something on your mind?” Dee asked.

“Why’d you do it?” 

Virgil’s voice was hardly above a whisper, but it still caught Dee’s attention. Virgil heard him go still, then lower his coffee onto the table.

“We’re jumping right into it, are we?” When Virgil didn’t respond, Dee tapped his fingers on the table. “Fine. If you want an apology, then an apology is what you will receive. I’m afraid I was quite intoxicated that night- although that’s no excuse-”

“No, it isn’t.”

Virgil peeked up to see Dee’s eyebrows shoot up. “My, my,” he said, leaning back in his seat. He looked almost impressed, if a little annoyed. “Have you grown a spine since I’ve been away?”

“You knew I didn’t want to- to-” Virgil could feel it all over him, pressing memories of fingers on his hips and on his neck. He swallowed down the urge to shiver. “You can’t-” 

“Oh, do stop stuttering,” Dee said with a roll of his eyes, and something coiled tight in Virgil’s chest snapped.

“You can’t treat me like that.” Virgil didn’t recognize the growl that came out of his throat. His fingers tightened reflexively around his cup, half crushing it, spilling warm coffee onto his fingers. He felt Dee’s gaze on them, on the sloshing drink, on Virgil’s clenched fist.

“Tell me, Virgil,” he said, voice flat. “How exactly am I treating you?”

Virgil’s temper hadn’t thought this far. He hesitated, keeping his scowl fixed on the table. He wished he could grab a napkin to wipe up the spilled drink, but he didn’t dare move 

“You- you hurt me,” Virgil said, picturing hands around his neck and glass on the floor and blood smeared everywhere. “And you force yourself on me when I tell you no.”

“I force myself on you.”

“You did. Roman saw.”

“Roman.” Virgil didn’t like hearing his name spoken with such distaste. “Ah. Now we are arriving at the heart of the matter.”

Virgil’s pulse jumped when Dee touched his wrist. He wanted to pull away, wanted to keep up whatever spark of bravery had kept him from fleeing thus far, but all he could do was watch dumbly as Dee plucked up a napkin and slowly dried Virgil’s hand off, finger by finger.

“Roman,” Dee repeated, focused on cleaning Virgil up. “And his partners. What were their names?”

“This isn’t about them.” Virgil’s voice was a whisper again.

Dee wiped off Vigil’s pinky and dropped the napkin. He raised his head, fingers curled around Virgil’s limp wrist, a small smile on his lips. “I think it is,” he said. He gave Virgil’s wrist a squeeze and then dropped it.

Virgil pulled his hand back as though it had been burned. Perhaps it had. 

“You’re playing the role of house guest for them, are you not?” Virgil rubbed his wrist, refusing to acknowledge the subject change. “Hm,” Dee said after several long seconds of silence. “Just out of curiosity, do they fuck you for rent, or do they have you paying as well?”

“Dee-!” 

“Because I know you can’t keep yourself afloat financially,” Dee continued, slicing neatly through Virgil’s interruption. “God knows I’ve paid enough of your bills to know.”

“They don’t- it’s not- it’s not like that at all!” 

“A little flustered there, aren’t we, Virgil?” 

“It’s not like that,” Virgil snapped, grasping at that bit of anger he felt cutting through the nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

“It isn’t? Why else would they keep you around, if it isn’t to be their little plaything?”

“They’re letting me stay with them because they’re-” Virgil swallowed. “Because they’re my friends.”

Dee laughed, and it was like Virgil was being cleaved in half from the inside out. “Your friends?” Dee tutted, shaking his head. “I think we both agree that you’re not very… how shall I put this nicely?  _ Gifted,  _ socially. No.” Dee took another sip of his coffee, oblivious to Virgil’s grimace. “If they haven’t made a move on you yet, then they’re playing a long game. Let me guess, they’ve been  _ so  _ nice to you since you had to run away from your big, bad boyfriend, haven’t they?”

“Dee-”

“I’ll bet they’ve doted on you, and told you all about how nasty I was, as if they haven’t been planning on getting underneath those tight little skinny jeans since the moment they met you.”

“They’re not-”

“Can you tell me why else they’d want to be your friend?”

Virgil wished he could. He wished he could think of something, anything about himself that would warrant such kind people being so generous towards him, but-

“Exactly,” Dee said. His lips twitched up in a sharp smirk. “I’m the only one who’s ever been able to put up with you long-term, god help me. Despite your many shortcomings, you do make for a good fuck.” Virgil winced at the emphasis, hunching in his shoulders in an attempt to sink lower in his chair. “The only reason they’ve been so friendly to you is because they want to play with you for a night, and then they’ll drop you just like you dropped me.”

“I didn’t drop you,” Virgil whispered. 

“No, you just left me lying on the floor while you ran off with Prince Fuckable.”

“Stop!” Virgil felt sweat gathering under his arms, on the back of his neck. He didn’t realize he was clenching the arms of his chair until dull pain cut at his knuckles, an ache from his hard grip. 

“You’re panicking again, aren’t you?” Dee’s voice was scathing. “God, you can’t even make it through one conversation without- would you look at me, Virgil?”

Virgil looked. He wished he could claw his eyes out. 

“Alright,” Dee said. He picked up his coffee cup and tapped the side of it, regarding Virgil with a thoughtful expression. “Clearly, I’ve struck a chord.” 

Virgil took a deep breath, not bothering to hide it. In for four, hold for-

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Dee said. He held out his hands in a gesture of peace, looking every inch the gentleman. “I’ll forgive you for all of this nonsense. You can come back to the apartment. You can come back to me.”

“No.”

Virgil wasn’t aware that he had said anything until he noticed Dee staring at him. His stomach sank as Dee’s eyes slowly narrowed.

“No,” Dee repeated. He licked his lips, tongue darting out, serpent-like, as he regarded Virgil. “No.”

What was Virgil doing? This was what he wanted, this was his chance to go back to life as it had been before everything had fallen apart. He should be begging on his knees to come back, should be thanking Dee for bothering to give him a second chance, but- 

“Well,” Dee said. “Isn’t that… interesting.” He set his coffee down and folded his hands neatly, one over the other, fingers hooked together. “I’ll tell you what, then. You run back to your little harem and  _ test  _ them. Test the pure little friendship you have going on. And when they show you their real colors, don’t you dare come crawling back to me.” 

“Dee-”

“Save it, Virgil. I’ve tried hard enough.” Dee stood up, chair screeching against the wood, and Virgil winced. Dee looked down at him, at Virgil quivering in his seat, and his mouth curled in disgust.

“You’re a waste of time,” he said. Then he turned and walked away, leaving his half-finished coffee and a dozen staring patrons behind him. 

Virgil watched him all the way to the door, half-wishing he would turn back around, half-fearing it. 

He left without even a glance in Virgil’s direction.

Virgil still felt far too warm, so much so he felt lightheaded. He dropped his head into his hands and pulled at his bangs, sweat on his forehead. He wiped it away and looked back up at his coffee. His gaze fell on Dee’s, and a shiver ran up his spine. 

He stood up abruptly, suddenly unable to sit any longer.

People looked. The other patrons, scattered at tables all around him, raised their heads to look at him, and Virgil felt their eyes like hot brands on his neck. He needed to get away, get out from under their heavy gazes, his stomach was churning and he was going to be sick and he needed to go go  _ go _ -

It was getting warmer outside, but Virgil still pulled up his hood and ducked his head low. He stood for a moment just outside the door, staring out at the street. He turned towards the direction he was supposed to go- back towards the apartment, back towards safety- and then hesitated. 

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked with a twist of anxiety, but it was just Alice sending him a meme. He responded with a quick ‘lmao’ and then turned decisively in the other direction. 

The only liquor store he knew of was a few blocks away. His footsteps were brisk as he walked, his movements quick and hurried to try and keep him occupied, because he couldn’t bear to think about anything right now. He couldn’t let his mind wander, because if it did he would spiral. 

He needed a way to shut it up before he crumbled.

X X X X X 

Virgil poured another shot, the lip of the bottle clinking against the glass. He was sitting on the floor of the guest bedroom, legs crossed, one earbud in his ear blasting My Chemical Romance. He let his head tip backward against the bed and raised the shot glass in a toast to the closing strains of the Black Parade. Then he lowered it to his lips and drank.

The straight tequila burned his throat as he swallowed; he hadn’t thought to buy a chaser. It wasn’t an enviable way to spend a Friday night, but after the third shot Virgil had decided that this was a marvelous idea, and that he really ought to get drunk by himself more often. 

The album started from the top. Virgil hummed it loudly, poured out another measure of tequila with shaking hands, then set the bottle off to the side. It was half empty.

“When I was… a young boy…” Virgil’s head felt cloudy. He curled his fingers into the carpet underneath him and marveled at how much it felt like hair. The thought made him giggle. 

Virgil slammed the next shot back with acquired skill and grimaced- it had been too soon since his last one. His stomach ached but he was too detached from his bpdy to worry about it. He closed his eyes, letting the ground roll underneath him. Was he on a boat? Virgil had never liked boats, so he wasn’t sure why he was on one now. Perhaps he was on a cruise.

No, he couldn’t afford a cruise. He was probably on a dinghy or something. 

“Na, na na na, na na naaa, na na na,” Virgil played the notes on his knee. His body felt remarkably numb at this point, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he had been so gloomy earlier. There had been a reason he had started drinking, but Virgil couldn’t keep his thoughts in one place long enough to recall that reason. 

He was pouring another shot when there was a knock on his door. Virgil nodded in time with the music, held the shot glass up to get a better look at how much he was pouring, and called, “Come in!”

The door opened. Virgil looked up and grinned at Roman.

“Roman!” he said, shimmying his shoulders to the beat in his ears. My Chemical Romance had been  _ such  _ a good band. Why didn’t they make music anymore?

“I thought I heard you in here,” Roman said. He sounded amused. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a small smile on his lips. His face looked hazy. “I was going to ask what you were doing, but apparently you’re having a private party.”

“Doesn’t have to be private,” Virgil said. He grinned up at Roman, who looked as handsome as always even in his pajamas. Was it nighttime? Virgil thrust the glass upwards, towards Roman, spilling tequila on his hand. “Have a shot!” 

“Not tonight, but thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged, disappointed for only a moment until he realized that that meant there would be more alcohol for him. The thought made him so happy he beamed down at the shot and then threw it back.

“Virgil, did you drink all this tonight?” Virgil screwed his face up and shook his head, trying to knock the burning feeling out of his throat. When he looked up again Roman was crouched in front of him, eyes on the bottle next to Virgil. He was so close that Virgil could smell his aftershave. It was something woodsy. Oak? 

“Yeah,” Virgil said, licking tequila off of his palm. “You smell like a Christmas tree.” 

Roman chuckled. “Do I?” He raised his eyes to look at Virgil. He was grinning, but when his gaze dropped to Virgil’s mouth, his smile dropped.

Virgil was sucking on his finger, focusing on trying to get the alcohol off of it. When he noticed Roman looking at him, a involuntary chill ran up his spine. Virgil smirked around his finger, sucking more slowly, and Roman visibly swallowed.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said. He picked up the shot glass and set it on the bedside table. Virgil watched him, staring at the way Roman’s hair fell across his forehead. “Do you need help getting up?”

Virgil slid his finger out of his mouth and rolled his eyes. He tugged the other earbud out of his ear. “No,” he said. He grabbed the blanket behind him and used it to pull himself up. He made it halfway before he realized that standing took just a little too much effort right now, and he fell back down with a thump.

“Whoops,” he said, vaguely aware that he had banged his tailbone against the ground. That didn’t matter. “I’ll just stay here.”

Roman sighed heavily from somewhere above him. “No, you need to get into bed,” he said. Virgil felt hands under his arms pulling him upwards and went limply along with it. “Up you get, Virgil.”

Virgil’s legs still felt like jelly, so he tossed his arms around Roman’s shoulders the second he was high enough to do so. His momentum carried him forward, swaying so close to Roman that their noses almost brushed. 

“Woo,” Virgil said under his breath, dizzy with the movement. He blinked, trying to bring Roman’s face back into focus. He could smell him, smell the fresh, heady scent of him, and could feel the hard line of Roman’s back through his pajama t-shirt. Curious, he laid his hands flat, feeling with his fingers for Roman’s shoulder blades.

“Hey,” Roman said. He shifted, moving his hands up to Virgil’s arms. When Virgil felt him trying to detach his arms he frowned and locked his fingers together so that Roman couldn’t pry him off. 

“I can’t stand alone,” he said, raising his chin to blink slowly at Roman. “I need help.”

God, Roman was pretty. Virgil could tell even through his drunken haze. His whole body felt warm, tingly, and Roman was so  _ alive  _ underneath him. His nose was perfect; Virgil wished he could touch it.

“Okay,” Roman said. “I’ll help you. Let’s turn around.”

“You’re pretty,” Virgil said, because he had thought it so why shouldn’t he say it? “You’re like- really pretty.”

“Virgil. You need to get into bed.” 

“Come with me.”

“You’re drunk.” 

“M’not,” Virgil said. “Don’t you want to come with me? Please?”

“No. Virgil-”

Virgil was tired of Roman talking. He leaned forward, his movements quick enough to surprise even himself, and caught Roman’s lips with his own.

He felt Roman stiffen underneath him. Afraid he would pull away, Virgil pressed closer, arms tightening, moving his lips in a way he  _ knew  _ was good, letting his tongue brush Roman’s bottom lip and plunge forward to force a small groan from Roman. 

Virgil took it as encouragement. He took a step backwards and felt the back of his leg hit the bed, and when he fell he dragged Roman down with him. They came apart for just a moment before Virgil surged up again to kiss him with renewed energy, and  _ god, Roman’s lips were like magic and he could feel him melting against him- _

Then Roman pulled away, leaving Virgil lying on the bed, grasping for body parts that were no longer there.

“No,” Roman said. He was panting, his hair disheveled in a way that made Virgil ache. He was half crouched on the bed, half hanging off of it. “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares?” Virgil sat up and reached out to grab the front of Roman’s shirt, but Roman pulled away.

“I do!” 

“It’s okay.” Virgil tried to sound comforting, hoping a more Patton-based emotional plea would work. “I’m okay with it, I can pay you back for everything.”

“What?”

“You’re really pretty,” Virgil tried again, but Roman caught his wrist when he reached out.

“What are you talking about, Virgil?” His grip was strong. Virgil frowned and tried to tug his arm back, but Roman held fast. 

“Nothin.’”

“No- what do you mean, you can pay me back?” 

“I mean I can- I can give you what you want.” Virgil tried again to pull out of Roman’s hold. His fingers were tight around Virgil’s wrist, and beginning to pinch.

“What do I want?”

“Le’go,” Virgil mumbled, his head spinning.

Roman shifted so he could lean in close to Virgil, imposing and almost on top of him. Virgil tried to pull away but Roman was still holding onto his wrist, pulling him close. “What do you think I want, Virgil?”

Virgil made a whimpering sound deep in his throat. “Stop,” he said. He pulled his arm again, harder this time. “Stop, I’ll be easy, you don’t have to make me, please-”

“Roman?”

Roman let go of Virgil’s wrist. Virgil yanked his hand away and scrambled back on the bed, trying to gain some distance despite his promise. His stomach was rolling uncomfortably, tequila threatening to slither its way back up his throat.

“What is happening?” Logan asked. Patton entered the room behind him, looking around cautiously.

“What’s happening,” Roman said, standing up, “is that Virgil has ingested half a bottle of tequila and is- behaving very unlike himself.”

“What does that mean?” Patton asked. He turned concerned eyes on Virgil and Virgil looked away, trying to focus on anything except for his stomach. 

“For one thing, he seems to think he has to repay me for something.”

“All of you,” Virgil said. Despite his nausea, it didn’t feel good to be talked about as though he wasn’t there, because he was there, he was very there and very willing to do whatever he needed to do. He had learned a long time ago that things were easier to do when he had been drinking. “I’ll repay all of you. I’m really good at it, I promise.”

Patton moved forward to crouch in front of the bed. “Good at what, honey?” 

“What I’m here for. Dee said-”

“Dee?” Roman’s harsh voice made Virgil’s stomach surge. He gripped the blankets, trying to keep his head from swaying. “When did Dee tell you anything?”

“This morning. He said-”

“This morning!” 

“Roman,” Logan said. He reached out and touched Roman’s shoulder. His brow was furrowed. “Relax.”

“No!” Roman shook off Logan’s hand and stalked over to the bed. His face was twisted, furious, and Virgil pressed himself backwards, grasping at slippery, fleeting thoughts to try to figure out what he was being punished for. “Where did you see Dee?”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil gasped out, “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to kiss me, I thought-”

“Kiss you?” Logan asked sharply at the same time Patton said, “Roman, stop, you’re scaring him!”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Roman growled, and even through the haze of alcohol Virgil felt sudden panic grip him. “I swear to god, I’m going to-”

“Stop it, Roman, you’re making it worse!” 

“Please don’t,” Virgil whispered, and winced when three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll do- I’ll do whatever-”

“Virgil, honey, we’re not going to hurt you.” Patton sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out towards him. Virgil tried to scoot farther back but found nothing but air behind him- he gasped as he fumbled for leverage-

“Virgil!” His name followed him over the side of the bed. On the floor, Virgil curled in on himself, pressing himself down into the carpet, waiting for the blow to land.

“Virgil, come on.” There it was, a hand on his arm, curling around his elbow, and Virgil’s instincts took over. He flailed his arm out to bat the intrusion away, shaking his head violently.

“Let go of me, don’t touch me, please, let go-”

“Okay- okay, Virgil, I won’t touch you.” The hand was gone. Virgil looked up, gasping for air, to find Logan crouched in front of him. His glasses were hazy, fuzzy in Virgil’s blurred vision, and Virgil could feel bile rising in his throat.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked as Virgil scrambled back into an upright position.  

“Gonna,” Virgil said. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to will it away. “Gonna-”

He stood up, grabbing at the wall for support when he swayed. He took a stumbling step forward, then another, shoving past Logan and then Patton and Roman without stopping to think about any of it. He aimed out the door, towards the end of the hall, focusing on getting there, fumbling for the doorknob-

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet and got his head over it just as his chest heaved. He retched, shoulders tightening painfully as he emptied his stomach. It burned his already sore throat so badly he clawed at the porcelain seat, trying to get some traction to support himself as he threw up.

When the worst of it had passed he sat there panting, head in the toilet, hair hanging in his eyes and clinging to his sweat-soaked forehead. He swallowed down the awful taste in his mouth, the taste of stale tequila and acid. 

“Virgil?” said a cautious voice behind him. A steady pounding had started in Virgil’s temples. He sucked in a heavy breath. 

“Go away,” he said, his voice warped by the inside of the toilet bowl.

“Let us help you, Virgil.”

Virgil raised his head. He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, leaning against the toilet seat for support. He still felt the heady effects of the alcohol, but now exhaustion was settling over him, clearing his mind enough for humiliation to settle in. “I’m not a child.”

“I’ll go get you some water.”

“No.” Virgil glared at Patton, who froze halfway out the door. “No, I- can’t you listen to me for once? I don’t want your help, I want you to leave me alone. I don’t know what you three want from me, but-”

“We don’t want anything,” said Logan.

“Bullshit.” Virgil’s throat was sore. His words came out raspy. “That’s  _ bullshit _ . What is it, huh? You don’t want me to pay you. You wanna fuck me?”

“Is that what Dee told you?” Virgil didn’t like Roman’s accusatory tone. He turned his scowl on him.

“It doesn’t matter what Dee told me. I’m right, aren’t I? That’s why I’m here, you want me to sleep with you, you think I’ll spice things up for you-”

“That’s crazy,” Logan said, and Virgil slammed his hand against the tiled floor.

“I’m not crazy!” he shouted.

“Virgil,” said Patton. He stepped closer, toying with the sleeves of his sweater. “Maybe you should just go to sleep.”

“No.” Virgil braced himself against the toilet and stood up. He felt much steadier on his feet now than he had earlier, and despite how tired he was, he was suddenly desperate for fresh air. “I’m going out.”

“Going- going out where?” 

Virgil shoved his way past the three of them again. He went straight for the living room, ignoring the three of them trailing behind him like a flock of geese. 

“Virgil, we can’t let you go out like this,” Logan said.

“You can’t stop me.” Virgil reached the front door and jammed his shoes on, shoving his feet inside without bothering with the laces. He held the wall for support when the world spun underneath him. 

“Where are you going?” Patton asked, his voice high.

“For a walk.” Virgil yanked the door open. “I need air.”

“Just a walk,” Roman said. “Right?”

“Right.” And Virgil slammed the door shut behind him.

He walked briskly to the stairwell and hurried down. His mouth tasted like alcohol and vomit, but he could already feel unpleasant sobriety setting in. He wished he had thought to bring the tequila with him. 

Outside, Virgil turned right. He walked to the end of the street and then turned again, setting off decisively towards downtown. It was much later than he had thought, and the moon was high in the sky above him. It looked almost full. Virgil shoved his hands into the pocket of hoodie and crossed the next street at a light jog. 

Virgil hadn’t gone out in a very long time, but he was still familiar with the area. Ten minutes later he slowed as he approached the bright lights of the establishment ahead of him. The door was propped open, pulsating music and voices spilling out onto the sidewalk. A neon blue sign overhead read “Summit.” 

Virgil stopped. He stared into the darkness just past the door. He wasn’t sure why he was here, because he hadn’t thought to grab his wallet and couldn’t pay to get in. Old habit, probably. A reflex. 

He had been standing there only a minute when when a group of men stumbled out, laughing and clutching at each other. They were young- Virgil might have found them attractive after a few drinks- and as Virgil watched, one turned and caught his eye. Virgil stood there, anger and humiliation festering like an open wound as the man dragged his gaze up and down Virgil, examining him.

“Hey,” he said, breaking off from the group. White teeth gleamed as he grinned. “You waiting for someone?”

Virgil shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and quirked an eyebrow. “Stood up, I think,” he said.

“Someone stood you up?” The man shook his head slowly, eyes dropping to Virgil’s lips in a way that sent a thrill of excitement through Virgil. “What an idiot.”

The group that he had come out with was disappearing down the sidewalk after him. Virgil watched him look over his shoulder at them and then turn around to raise an eyebrow, a question in his smile. 

Minutes later Virgil was pressed against the brick wall of a nearby alley. He could taste alcohol on the man’s tongue. His movements were clumsy and rough, but when he dipped his head to bite and suck at Virgil’s neck, Virgil gasped and let his head tip back.  _ Yes _ , this is what he wanted, he wanted sharp pain at his throat and someone else’s tongue sliding against his, messy and all-consuming. He clawed at the man’s back, buried his fingers in his hair, then dropped his hand to undo his fly. When his fingers slipped under the hem of the man’s underwear the stranger made a noise like a growl and pressed forward, shoving Virgil against the bricks. Eager lips found his again and a knee found its way between Virgil’s legs, pressing up, and Virgil moaned. 

When Virgil dropped to his knees, he let himself revel in the sensation of fingers gripping his hair, shoving him down. This, he thought as he struck up a tempo, was something he could do without thinking. This was easy, as painless as it was painful.

He closed his eyes and focused on his job, didn’t let his mind stray back to anything he had walked away from.

X X X X X

In retrospect, Virgil probably should have expected what he returned to. He had stayed out late, far longer than he had expected, so that the sun was almost risen when he wandered back towards the apartment. He was sober now; he hadn’t grabbed his wallet, so he hadn’t been able to buy anymore drinks for himself.

He mounted the stairs, exhaustion tugging at his eyes as he climbed. His feet ached and he felt grimy all over, sweaty under his hoodie. All he wanted to do was take a shower and then crawl into bed, and maybe sleep for a few weeks.

The front door was unlocked. Virgil twisted the doorknob and pushed it open, letting it swing. 

The apartment was oddly quiet. Virgil stepped inside and closed the door behind him, keeping his movements as quiet as possible. He figured the other three must still be asleep. 

He had just slipped his shoes off when a voice behind him said, “Virgil?” Virgil turned around, startled, to find Patton standing there, eyes wide.

“Oh, my goodness,” he said. He moved forward and Virgil subconsciously braced himself. “We were worried sick!” 

Patton threw his arms around Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil blinked, surprised, and brought one arm up to touch the small of Patton’s back. He could feel Patton’s breath on his neck, his curly hair brushing against Virgil’s chin when he pulled away again.

“Are you alright?” All Virgil could see was Patton, pressed so close to him, hands coming up to cup Virgil’s cheeks. His touch was light as it moved across Virgil’s cheekbones, down his jaw, eyes wandering frantically over every visible inch of Virgil’s skin he could find. “Are you hurt? Where did-?”

Patton’s fingers stopped. Virgil’s stomach sank as he felt a light touch on his neck, the ghost of a sensation on the patch of skin he knew was slowly turning dark red.

“Oh,” Patton said. His thumb brushed over the love bite, drawing a chill up Virgil’s spine, before Patton took a step away from him. Virgil felt the missing warmth in his bones. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

Patton nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I need to- I need to go call Roman and Logan.”

Virgil watched, bewildered, as Patton turned and made a beeline across the living room to the hallway. It took Virgil a few seconds to follow, but he did eventually, tracking the sound of Patton’s voice to their bedroom.

“Yes, he’s fine,” Patton was saying. “Yes- okay. Love you too.”

Virgil stopped just outside the door. He had never gone into their bedroom, and he wasn’t about to do so now. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, letting his fingers brush the cold wood of the doorframe.

Patton raised his eyes from his phone. His expression was oddly closed off, lips turned sharply downwards. “Roman and Logan are out looking for you,” he said. 

“For me?” Virgil frowned. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been missing for hours, and you didn’t bring your phone. We were- worried.” Patton raised his phone to his ear and waited for a moment. “Hey- yeah, he’s back. He’s okay. I’ll- okay. Bye.”

“I told you I was going out.”

“You said you were going for a walk.”

“It was a long walk,” Virgil said, feeling oddly defensive in the face of Patton’s blank stare.

Patton dropped his phone on the bed behind him. “Logan and Roman will be back soon,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Virgil dug his fingers into the wood. “About what?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. 

Patton turned away from him, leaving Virgil staring at the back of his head.

“Why don’t you go clean up,” Patton said quietly. “You look as though you’ve had… a night.”

Shame rose in Virgil’s throat. He glared at Patton’s back, annoyed with the cryptic comments, then turned and stalked across the hall to the guest bedroom.

He stopped in the doorway, staring at the mess. His half-finished tequila bottle was still on the floor, as was the shot glass, and the bed was disheveled and half torn apart. 

Virgil bent down to pick up his phone and tangled headphones. He tried to turn it on, but the battery had died. He plugged it in with a sigh and then turned to rifle in the plastic shopping bag he kept next to the door for clean clothes.

The apartment was still silent when he emerged. Virgil ducked his head and hurried to the bathroom, letting out a sigh of relief when he closed it behind him and locked it without incident. 

He felt slow and sluggish as he undressed. He peeled off his hoodie and jeans, discarded his underwear without looking at them, then turned the water on. He stood there, arms crossed across his bare chest, shivering in the cold until the water heated up enough for him to climb in.

The water scalded him. He stood there for several minutes, letting it hit his back, rolling his shoulders against the pressure of it. Then he turned, closing his eyes to let the full stream of it hit him in the face. It stung, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

He took a longer shower than he usually did even though he didn’t bother to wash his hair. When he turned the water off and stepped out, reaching for a towel, his skin felt numb and raw. He wrapped the towel around his shoulders and walked to the mirror, wet feet sticking to the cold tiles beneath him.

Virgil stared at himself in the mirror. He looked awful, tired, with dark bags under his eyes and an exhausted set to his lips. He tilted his head, looking, and frowned deeply when he saw the hickey. It was dark and far too large to hide. When Virgil poked it, he felt a dull pain.

Virgil took his time towel drying his hair and then pulling on his clothes. He had grabbed another pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt that was too large, but cheap. The hem of it hung low. There was no chance of hiding the evidence of what he had done last night.

There were voices in the living room when Virgil stepped out. He moved quietly, creeping down the hall to the guest bedroom, and slipped inside. He dropped his old clothes back into the bag. He looked longingly for a moment at his hoodie, but it had gotten too dirty last night. Virgil needed to feel slightly less scummy than usual if he was going to get through this conversation.

He stepped out into the hall and walked into the living room. He walked without thinking, without giving himself a chance to change his mind even when he saw the three of them.

They were seated at the kitchen table, heads close together. They looked up from their conversation and fell silent as Virgil approached them.

“Virgil,” Patton said. “Wanna take a seat, kiddo?”

Virgil didn’t look at Logan or Roman. He crossed the room and sank gingerly into the empty seat, sitting on the very edge of it. 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Patton asked, half-rising out of his seat. They each had a mug in front of them.

“No,” Virgil said.

Patton slowly sat back down. 

“We thought you went back to your apartment,” Logan said after a short silence. 

Virgil crossed his arms over his chest, staring hard at the table. “I didn’t.”

“I know. I went to look for you there.”

Virgil’s head shot up. He looked at Logan, eyes widening. Logan stared back, his expression flat and impassive. 

“You- what?”

“I went to speak with your ex-boyfriend about your whereabouts.”

“Did he-?”

“He didn’t answer the door. I was just debating whether I should call the police when Patton contacted me to inform you that you had returned.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “That’s- that’s good. You shouldn’t have tried to talk to him.”

“I had reason to fear for your safety.”

“I was fine,” Virgil said. 

“We didn’t know that,” Roman said. His eyes were on Virgil’s neck. “Did you find someone to keep you company?”

Warmth rose in Virgil’s face. He resisted the urge to cover the mark. “That’s none of your business.”

“But it is.” Roman’s smile was thin and didn’t reach his eyes. “You said you were going for a walk.”

“Yes.”

“You were gone for hours.”

“Again, I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“We were worried about you, Virgil,” Patton said. He spread his hands flat on the table and leaned forward. “You were still drunk when you left, and very upset. We thought you might have-”

“I didn’t.” Virgil was annoyed now. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep and  _ not  _ suffer through whatever interrogation they were trying to hold. “I didn’t go back to him, and I’m fine. Can we just forget this happened?”

“I’m afraid that we cannot, Virgil,” Logan said. He straightened his glasses, resting his elbows on the table so he could look at Virgil more closely. Virgil just scowled at him. “You said several… concerning things last night.”

“I was drunk.”

“You kissed me,” Roman said.

Virgil curled his fingers into his arms. He raised his chin, refusing to be humiliated. “I was  _ drunk _ ,” he repeated. “Besides, you pulled away. It was thirty seconds, tops. I’m very sorry for my advances, but we don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

“Okay,” Roman said. He shoved his mug aside so he could lean forward, eyes narrowed at Virgil. The cup scraped harshly against the wood. “Okay. You don’t want to make a big deal out of that? We can make a big deal out of everything else, then. How about the fact that you were babbling about paying us back for everything, and you seemed to think that that meant sleeping with us?”

Virgil swallowed. “Listen,” he said, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I said I was sorry.”

“We don’t want an apology,” Roman said. “We want an explanation.”

“We want you to talk to us,” Patton cut in.

“You want me to talk.” Virgil reached up to brush his damp bangs out of his eyes. “You want me to- okay, fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“You said you saw Dee,” Logan said. Virgil nodded shortly. “When?”

“None of your business.”

Roman slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the cups and the silverware. Virgil leaned slightly away but kept his eyes fixed on Roman, trying to look as unimpressed as he could.

“Roman,” Patton said sharply.

“No,” Roman said. “No, I’m tired. We’ve been up all night worrying ourselves sick about him, and he’s just sitting there like it doesn’t even matter.”

“I didn’t know you were worried.”

“Bullshit,” Roman snapped. 

“You said you didn’t want an apology,” Virgil said, his voice slowly rising. 

“I don’t! I just want you to-”

“To what?” Virgil prompted when Roman paused. “You want me to what, Roman? It’d be great if you told me, because I’m having a very difficult time trying to figure out just what the  _ fuck  _ I’m doing here.”

“Is it so hard for you to believe that we care about you?” Roman asked.

“Yes! Yes, it is hard, because I don’t get it and I’m never going to get it because I’m  _ broken _ , aren’t I? I’m fucking broken and you three think you can fix me just by- by caring about  me!” Virgil dropped his face into his hands, ran his fingers through his hair, then raised his head again to glare at them. “That’s not the way it works!”

“We know it isn’t,” said Logan. He still seemed calm, so composed even now, but he had readjusted his collar four times in the last minute. “We know that.”

“Then why do you all keep trying so hard?” Virgil was ashamed when his voice cracked. He scowled at nothing and dropped his gaze to his lap, unable to look at them any longer, any of them.

A chair creaked as someone stood up. Footsteps approached Virgil, slow and methodical, and then there were fingers under Virgil’s chin, gently tilting his head up, and Virgil looked up into Patton’s pale eyes. They were shining with something close to reverence as he touched Virgil’s jaw. His thumb moved to brush against Virgil’s bottom lip and Virgil took a long, slow breath, eyes never leaving Patton’s, even as he came closer and closer until Virgil felt warm breath on his lips.

Virgil’s hand came up on its own, moving to touch Patton’s cheek as he kissed him. Patton’s lips were soft, tender as they pushed and tugged, and it had been so long since Virgil had been kissed like this, like he was something worth being gentle with. 

Virgil pulled away and turned his head. He stared at the floor, unable to look at Patton, lips warm with the residual feel of him.

“Virgil?” Patton whispered. 

Virgil stood up. He turned his back on them and walked a few steps away, trying to think. He reached up and touched his lips, felt the ghost of Patton’s thumb brushing them, felt the heat of Roman’s tongue sliding against his own.

“I need to leave,” he said.

“Virgil, I’m sorry.” Patton sounded frantic behind him. “I’m sorry, I thought-”

“It’s okay,” Virgil said. He dropped his hand and turned around. Patton had pressed his hands over his mouth, looking at him with desperate fear. Roman and Logan had stood up behind him, but made no move to come forward. “It’s- it’s fine, it’s not…”

“I’m sorry if I misread the situation, I just-”

“You didn’t,” Virgil said. He tried to smile at Patton, tried to ease his fears. “You didn’t misread it.”

“Then don’t go,” said Logan. He stepped forward, around the table and towards Virgil.

Virgil shook his head. “I have to. I can’t stay here, I can’t-”

“Why?”

“I’ll ruin you.”

“And you call me overdramatic,” Roman said, smiling just a little.

“Haven’t you been listening to me? I’m- not  _ good _ , I’m not okay, and you can’t fix that just by…”

“We don’t want to fix you, Virgil.” There were tears shining in Patton’s eyes, glinting in the light. “We just want to be there for you.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I don’t get it,” Patton said. He swiped at his eyes with a sniff. “If you feel the same way about us, then why-”

“Because it won’t work, Patton.”

“You keep saying that, but you’re not the only one who has any say in this!” When Virgil just stared at Patton, Patton curled his fists at his side. “You don’t get to choose for all of us!”

“Why not? I have  _ never  _ chosen, Patton, I’ve never gotten to choose!”

“Fine!” Patton shouted, cheeks bright red. “Fine, then- go! You get to choose, you can make the decision, you can-” Patton sucked in a deep breath, tears falling freely now. He wiped at them with his sleeve, spun on his heel, and made a break for the hallway.

“Patton!” Roman called after him, hurrying to follow.

Virgil’s chest felt tight. He turned and ran for the guest bedroom, crossing the living room in a few strides and throwing the door open. He snatched up the plastic bag he kept his clothes in off the ground and started grabbing the few possessions he had that weren’t in there- his laptop, his chargers, a stray sock. He was grateful,  _ so  _ grateful that he didn’t have much with him.

When he had everything he turned around- and froze. Logan was in the doorway, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m leaving,” Virgil said.

“I know.” Logan took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling smoothly. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“I- I think so.” Virgil clutched his plastic bag with both hands. “Logan-”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“I need time,” Virgil whispered.

“I know.” Logan stepped back to let Virgil through. Virgil hesitated a moment longer before walking forward, slipping past him out into the hall. He heard noises coming from behind the closed door of the master bedroom and he ducked his head, walking quickly away from them. 

Virgil walked to the door and leaned down to grab his shoes. He felt Logan’s eyes on him as he shoved them on his feet, struggling with the laces.

When he stood back up, he turned to look at Logan. “Tell them that I’m sorry,” he said.

“I will.”

Virgil opened the front door- and then he hesitated. He stood there, feeling as though he was hanging in time, suspended there. He could turn around. He could apologize and talk about everything more, and they could probably figure something out, some arrangement that would work temporarily. But if he did they would only end up here once more, trying to wrestle with his issues again and again and again.

Virgil couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t upset the steadiness of their lives, the functionality of it. They were wonderful before Virgil came, and they would be wonderful again once he left. 

Virgil shut the front door behind him. He turned and ran, across the hall and to the stairs and down, moving so quickly he was half afraid he would trip over his own feet- half wished he would- and then he ran out onto the sidewalk and turned away from the building. 

The plastic bag swung at his side and his phone stayed heavy and silent in his pocket as he hurried along the sidewalk, keeping his head down. He knew where he was going, knew the only chance he had for safety. It was too far of a walk for him to make on a normal day, but he didn’t think about that now, didn’t think about his aching feet. He wouldn’t have been able to sit still on a bus, anyways.

It took him twenty minutes to get there. He had only been there once so he got turned around a few times, had to retrace his steps to find it, but he finally did. He walked into the building and turned into the stairwell, making his way up to the second floor. 

He was too frazzled to be nervous, so he knocked on the door without worrying. When it creaked open and Alice poked her head out, dark hair tied in a knot on top of her head, he felt a wash of relief so strong his knees almost buckled. 

“Virgil?” she asked, startled. Virgil had never seen her without any makeup on. He wasn’t surprised that she looked just as beautiful without it, if a bit paler. 

“Hi.” He sounded ragged, as though he had just been punched in the throat. “I- I need to talk.”

He had a momentary fear that Alice would turn him away. He stood there anxiously, waiting for his judgment as she looked him over, dropped her gaze to the plastic bag swinging at his side.

Then she stepped back and opened the door. “Come on in,” she said. “I was just about to pour myself a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry. I promise it won't be this sad for very long.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the continued support!! I really appreciate every single one of you. I know this ending is a bit aggravating, so I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP!
> 
> Have a lovely day <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: none

“But you wanna know the real tea?”

“There’s more?” Virgil asked, amused.

“Oh, yes, and it is absolutely _scalding_. So Rebecca tells me that he’s cheating on me with Brian, right? And I already got us the tickets to that concert he really wanted to go to, so I snatched them off the counter and left without him, and then I took _Brian_ to the concert instead of him.”

Alice snorted. “That’s bull.”

“It is not!” Remy sat back in his seat and raised his straw to his lips, eyebrows raised. “And I like, totally slept with him, too.”

“Rem!” Virgil laughed.

“What? Listen, I am not about to let any man cheat on me and get away with it. Besides, he dyed his hair blue, and it looked _awful_ with his complexion.” He peered at Virgil’s face over the top of his sunglasses and rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, girl. I’ve already told you that the whole purple thing you’ve got going on is a look.”

“Yeah, we love a good home dye job,” Alice said, leaning over to ruffle Virgil’s hair. Virgil pulled away and scowled at her, pushing his bangs back into place.

“Don’t you have a shift to get to?” he asked.

Alice sighed and glanced over her shoulder at the counter. There was a small line building at the register, but Edward, the newest hire, appeared to be handling it alright. “It is so not fair that you have the day off.”

“Yet I come in and keep you company anyways,” Virgil said. He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “God, sometimes it sucks being such a good friend.”

“Asshole,” Alice said. She stood up, gave them a mock salute, then turned around to return to the perils of capitalism.

“Okay,” Remy said as she walked away. “Now it’s time for _your_ tea.”

“I haven’t got any,” Virgil said, taking a sip of his latte. It was thick with sugar and creamer, so sweetened he could hardly taste the coffee- just how he liked it.

“What about that tall glass of iced peppermint mocha that you left the club with on Saturday?” Remy wagged two neatly shaped eyebrows at him.

“Okay, first of all,” Virgil said, “no one in the history of the entire universe has ever said that.”

“I’m unique.”

“Right. Second, I didn’t leave with him.”

“You weren’t in the club.”

“Yes I was.”

“But I didn’t… oh, you sly little minx!” Remy shoved his sunglasses up to look at Virgil, leaving them propped up on the top of his head. There was a delighted expression on his face, as though Virgil had just given him a great gift. “In the bathroom?”

Virgil took another sip of his coffee.

“You are a godsend, Virgil,” Remy said. “An angel sent from above to fill my life with the most amazing drama. Did you get his number?”

“No.”

“ _Girl_.”

“I don’t date.”

“But he was so cute! You could have at least gotten it for me. Throw this sexy dog a bone, my friend!”

Virgil laughed. He knew he should feel embarrassed about his escapades- several months ago he would have been horrified with himself for even doing something so gross, let alone talking about it- but he never felt embarrassed with Remy. Probably because Remy had done much, much worse- and talked about it all in detail.

“So are you, like, aromantic?” Remy asked after a moment of silence.

Virgil frowned. “No. Why?”

“The whole _I don’t date_ thing. I know you’ve had bad experiences in the past, but I was wondering if it was also aromanticism. Because that’s totally a thing, you know.”

“I know it is,” Virgil said. He tugged on the neck of his hoodie. “I’m… I don’t think I’m aromantic. I just don’t like dating people. It brings out the worst in me.”

“You just totally contradicted centuries of romantic literature, but go off, I guess.”

“It’s true, though. I’ve done it before, and it’s just… not for me.”

“Like, ever?”

“Like, ever,” Virgil said, mimicking Remy’s high-pitched voice, and Remy rolled his eyes.

“Forgive me for taking an interest in my friend’s love life,” he said. He leaned back in his chair and sipped at the dregs of his coffee, straw sucking at empty air. “If you ever wanted, I could totally hook you up with someone.”

“Not necessary, but I appreciate that, pal.”

“Anything for you, my most wonderful friend.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. Remy kept sucking at nothing. “What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“You’re being nice.”

“Am I normally not nice?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, rude!” Remy set his empty drink down, looking insulted. “Do you wanna babysit with me tomorrow?”

“Rem,” Virgil groaned.

“No, hear me out!” Remy spoke over him, flapping a hand. “Emile _loves_ you, Virgil, he hasn’t stopped talking about you since you came with us to the zoo.”

“Since you forced me to go to the zoo.”

“Yeah but you met a monkey, so are you actually trying to complain to me right now?”

Virgil crossed his arms, annoyed when he couldn’t. It had been a cute monkey.

“When?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Remy!”

“We just need to pick him up from school and then take him for froyo or something while my sister’s at a doctor’s appointment. It’ll be like, two hours max. He loves talking to you, you’ll make my job so much easier.”

“Why aren’t you making Alice do it?”

“Because Alice has a shift, and I know that you only work in the morning. Come on, Virge, please?” Remy stuck his bottom lip, letting it quiver piteously. Virgil groaned again, because he knew he couldn’t say no, especially when he didn’t have any plans the next day, anyways.

“You’re buying me froyo,” he warned.

Remy placed his hand over his heart. “On my honor,” he said with a ceremonious nod. “You are a lifesaver, Virgil. Truly, a man ascended from the heavens to bless us with your presence and-”

“I already said yes.”

“I know, but I just wanted to sell it all the way,” Remy said. He winked and picked up his cup, shaking the ice at the bottom as though that would help it melt faster. He turned to look at the counter, flicking his glasses down to peer at Alice through them. “Ugh, what’s a bitch gotta do to get a _refill_ around here?” he asked loudly. Across the room, Alice stuck her tongue out at him.

Virgil laughed despite himself. It wouldn’t be too bad of an afternoon, he decided. At least Emile was a cute kid.

X X X X X

“I thought that Emile was a second grader.”

“Dude, he’s four,” Remy said.

Virgil shrugged and reached up to tug on his lip ring. He had been doing that a lot since it had healed, pulling on it when he felt nervous. Not that he was nervous, because there was nothing to be nervous about, but he _was_ disoriented by the bright wallpaper on the preschool’s walls.

“I get kids under twelve mixed up,” Virgil said.

“Yeah, they’re all little shits,” Remy said. He sipped at his iced coffee and turned decisively down a hallway. They passed several open doors propped open to reveal rooms splattered in colors and teeming with children. Virgil immediately felt uncomfortable. One kid he could handle, especially if it was Emile, who was especially well-behaved for a four year old.

Herds of children frightened him.

They reached a room at the end of the hallway. Remy stepped in first, lifting his sunglasses to peer in at the teeming mass of children running around. Virgil lingered behind him, anxious to keep Remy between him and the kids as a human shield.

“Uncle Rem!”

Suddenly Emile was there, rocketing through the crowd. He was wearing the same tan cardigan he always did, the one that Remy’s sister couldn’t get him to change out of, with a pastel pink tie knotted loosely at his neck.

“Pipsqueak!” Remy raised his iced coffee out of the way as Emile hugged his midsection, reaching down to pat Emile distractedly on the head. Virgil was annoyed that he still managed to look cool while doing it, with his sunglasses slid down to the tip of his nose and a child wrapped around his waist. Virgil blamed it on that stupid leather jacket he always wore.

“I need to go sign him out,” Remy said over his shoulder to Virgil. He tugged at a strand of Emile’s hair to pull his attention off of the hug. “Hey, lil dude, look who I brought.”

Emile raised his head, eyes wide behind his glasses. A brilliant smile flashed across his face. “Virgil!” he cried, and detached from Remy long enough to throw himself at Virgil’s legs.

“Oh,” Virgil said, taken aback by the hug. He blinked down at the child. “Hey, Emile.”

Remy wagged his fingers at him, ice clinking in his cup, and winked as he turned to cross the room.

Virgil felt a tugging on his hoodie and looked down to see Emile staring up at him, waiting patiently for his attention.

“We did fingerpainting today,” he announced. His light curly hair had fallen across his forehead, making him look decidedly older than four. “I painted a forest. Would you like to see it?”

“Sure, kid,” Virgil said, and then was startled once more when Emile seized his hand. He felt slightly bemused as he was dragged across the room, weaving between the kids seated on the carpet with coloring books and blocks- it seemed to be some kind of free time before the parents came- to the back corner of the room, where a table was strewn with dozens of papers.

“Hang on, I gotta find mine,” Emile said, letting go of Virgil. “Wait here!”

Virgil grinned and crossed his arms, watching as Emile ran to the table and started sorting carefully through the pictures. He was careful not to touch anyone else’s drying paint, setting each one gingerly aside as though it was something precious.

“Virgil?”

Startled, Virgil blinked at Emile, who was still digging for his art, and then slowly turned his head, and- _oh, god_.

“What are you…?” Patton looked dazed, lips parted in surprised. He was wearing a familiar pale blue sweater, and his glasses were familiar, and everything was the same- maybe his hair was a bit longer, golden curls falling across his forehead, but it was him, and Virgil felt suddenly sick.

“Shit,” Virgil said, unable to think of anything else.

Patton shut his mouth. “Language, please,” he said quietly.

“Oh- right,” Virgil said. A child shrieked behind him, and Patton’s eyes flashed there momentarily before returning to Virgil. “Sorry, I-”

“What are you doing here?”

Before Virgil could answer there was another tug at his hoodie. He looked down at the paper Emile was presenting.

“It’s a forest,” he said, a note of pride in his voice.

“Wow,” Virgil said, head reeling. He blinked and looked at it. It was just smears of green and brown paint with a carefully blended blue sky. “It, uh, looks great, Emile.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Yeah, I do.” He looked up to meet Patton’s stare again. Patton’s eyebrows were drawn together, gaze moving from Virgil to Emile and back again in confusion.

Before he could say anything, a voice from behind called, “Virge, babe, we have froyo to get!”

“Froyo!” Emile asked excitedly, jumping up in the air. “Are we getting froyo?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. “One sec.” He looked back up at Patton, who was staring with a frown over Virgil’s shoulder. He turned his gaze back to him when Virgil said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t think that you-”

“You dyed your hair,” Patton said. “And-” He raised his finger and touched his bottom lip, and Virgil unconsciously mimicked his motion.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. He tugged at his lip ring once and dropped his hand. “Are you-?”

“You should go,” Patton said. His eyes drifted past Virgil’s shoulder again. “Your, uh- he looks impatient.”

Virgil turned to look at Remy, who was standing by the door now. He lifted his glasses to stare pointedly at Virgil and mouthed ‘froyo’ with great emphasis.

“Patton, can we take our pictures home?” Emile asked.

Patton’s expression softened. When he smiled at Emile, Virgil’s heart skipped a beat. “Of course, kiddo,” he said. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”

“Okay!” Emile reached up to grab Virgil’s hand, beaming up at him. “Come on!”

“Patton,” Virgil said, but Patton had turned away to crouch next to a young girl playing with blocks on the ground, attention moving swiftly away from Virgil.

Virgil allowed himself to be pulled away, tugged across the room by Emile, feet like blocks of lead dragging across the ground. Remy, typing one-handed on his phone, glanced up briefly when Virgil and Emile joined him.

“About time,” he said. “Let’s go, little man.”

Virgil hesitated. He looked over his shoulder for a last glimpse of Patton, but the other man’s back was to him, head bowed low over the table of drying paintings.

Virgil swallowed and turned to follow Remy and Emile into the hall.

Emile chatted excitedly about his day as they meandered through the twisting halls to the front lobby of the preschool. When they reached the lobby, Remy kicked open the front door with his foot and propped it for the other two to pass through as he sipped his coffee.

“You good?” he asked as Virgil passed him, frown visible behind his sunglasses.

Virgil just nodded and went back to listening to Emile’s explanation of the book he had read in class today, trying to pretend that he didn’t feel vaguely lightheaded.

Emile kept up a steady, one-sided conversation as they all climbed into Remy’s car. Virgil ignored Remy’s side-eyed looks at him as they drove, instead keeping his eyes fixed outside the window on the passing scenery. He tracked the passing cars and stop lights while listening to the sound of his pulse in his ear, giving half-hearted responses whenever Emile asked him a direct question.

Emile shouted loudly when they pulled into the parking lot of the frozen yogurt store. As soon as Remy turned the car off he was out the door, shouting over his shoulder, “I’m gonna get chocolate!”

Virgil went to open his car door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Hey,” Remy said. “You don’t seem Gucci.”

“I’m fine.”

Remy tilted his head to the side. Virgil couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he could see the way his mouth twisted with uncharacteristic concern. Virgil sighed and sat back in his seat. He had promised that he would be more open with his friends- or, rather, Alice had been forcing him to be more open, and Virgil had decided that that might not be a bad thing.

“Do you remember those… those people that I told you about?” he asked carefully. “The ones that I stayed with for a while before Alice?”

“The poly couple?”  
“Yeah.”

“Sure, you were like, totes into them, weren’t you?”

Virgil glared at him. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Right,” Remy said, sounding unconvinced. “Okay, keep going.”

“Well, I… I know Emile’s teacher.”

“You-” Remy shoved his glasses up, dark eyes wide and round behind them. “Oh, you are _lying_ to me right now. Which one?”

“His name is Patton.”

“The really sweet one who always tipped well?” When Virgil frowned at him, he shrugged, lips quirking apologetically. “Alice was upset when he stopped coming. Said she’d been saving up for a new phone.”

Virgil groaned and opened the car door. He slid out and slammed it shut behind him, starting for the froyo store even as Remy hurried to catch up to him.

“What did he say? What did _you_ say? Shit, I was all the way across the room, I missed everything!”

“There was nothing to miss,” Virgil said. He yanked open the door, bell overhead tinkling gently as he stepped in.

“Virgil!” Emile ran up holding a cup that was nearly the size of his head and filled to the brim with chocolate frozen yogurt. He had coated the whole thing with crushed Oreos and what looked like gummy worms. “Look, I made a little dirt home for the worms!”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “That’s very nice of you, Emile.”

“I’m going to go get some bears, too,” he said, then spun around to sprint back to the toppings bar.

“So much energy,” Remy said. Virgil ignored him, turning instead to grab a neon green cup.

Remy rejoined him as Virgil was serving himself a generous portion of cake batter frozen yogurt. “So what happened?” he asked.

“Nothing. He didn’t want to talk to me.” Virgil finished off the perfect swirl and glanced at Remy. “You getting something?”

“No, I’ll just eat what you and Emile don’t finish,” he said. “I saw you guys talking, though. I thought Emile roped you both into a conversation, but-”

“He told me to leave.”

Remy whistled and trailed after Virgil to the toppings. “He’s still pissed at you, huh?” He leaned his hip against the counter and watched Virgil drown his yogurt in rainbow sprinkles. “Did things end that badly between you all?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. He grabbed a scoop of chocolate chips and poured that on as well, since Remy was paying.

“You going to do anything about it?”

“No.” Virgil handed over his frozen yogurt and forced a smirk at Remy. “Pay up, babe.”

It took several minutes to get Emile to part with his frozen yogurt long enough to pay for it. They found a table near the window and sat down, Virgil with one shoulder pressed against the sun-warmed glass. He stirred his frozen yogurt and watched Emile carefully pick out each gummy worm and bear, laying them neatly on a napkin where they would be safe as he ate.

If it weren’t for the overwhelming nausea he still felt, the utter disbelief that today of all days was when a very abrupt reunion (if he could even call it that) was thrown his way, he might have been content.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Virgil looked up from his spoon to find Remy looking at him. He had laid his sunglasses down and was giving Virgil his full attention, brow drawn in a slight frown, and Virgil felt something tight loosen a bit in his chest. Remy was a lot sometimes, but at least Virgil knew that he cared.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. He slid his cup across the table and tried to smile. “Want a bite?”

Remy threw his head back and sighed dramatically, straightened hair falling into his eyes. “I thought you’d never ask, doll.”

X X X X X

Virgil took back every nice thing he’d ever said or thought about Remy as soon as he walked in the door of the apartment.

“Are you okay?” Alice asked, leaping up from the armchair she had been curled in.

Virgil shut the door and eyed her suspiciously as he shut the front door. “Yes. Why?”

“Remy told me that-”

Virgil groaned loudly. He crossed the room to flop onto the mess of sheets and blankets on the sofa, wishing he could disappear into the mess he had been sleeping in for the past few months. “Of course he told you.”

“He said it was bad, Virgil. Was it bad? What happened?”

Virgil flipped over so that he was lying on his side, hugging his pillow to his chest. Alice had sat back down on the sofa, elbows on her knees as she leaned forward and looked at him earnestly.

“It was bad,” Virgil admitted, tucking his chin into the pillow.

“Patton, right?” Virgil nodded, and Alice sighed. “I’m so sorry, Virge. That must have been rough.”

“He told me to leave.”

Alice frowned. “Really? Patton?”

“I told you that he was upset when I- when I left.”

“I know,” Alice said. She looked at Virgil for a moment, and then sighed again, louder. “Okay, budge up, kid.”

Virgil pulled himself into a sitting position as Alice dropped onto the couch next to him, so close that her shoulder was pressed against Virgil’s, their knees knocking together when she crossed her legs underneath her.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Virgil said, cradling the pillow in his lap.

“You aren’t going to… I don’t know. Talk to them?”

Virgil’s heart skipped. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They hate me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“They do,” Virgil said, thinking back to Patton’s face when he had first seen Virgil. Even though Virgil knew it was all for the best, the memory still stung.

“Okay,” Alice said. She shifted so that she was facing Virgil, her expression suddenly serious. “Virgil, I told you that you could stay here as long as you needed to, and I stand by that. Before you flip out,” she added, pointing at whatever nervousness she saw in Virgil’s face, “I’m not upset. I just think- you know, it’s been three months, and for your own wellbeing, I think it’s time that you look into getting off this sad ass futon.”

“You want me to leave?” Virgil couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice.

“I want you to be _happy_ ,” Alice corrected. Her smile was uncharacteristically soft. “It’s been a party having you here, but I think you’re at a point where it might be healthiest to move on. Which I think is a little difficult for you because you didn’t get any… closure.”

“I’m not good at closure.”

“I know. That’s why I think it might be a good idea if you just _talked_ to them, Virgil.”

Virgil’s stomach soured. “No,” he said.

“It’s really unhealthy to hold all your emotions in.”

“Does it look like I care about where my emotions go?”

“Virgil-”

“If you want me to leave, Alice, I will. I can leave anytime you want me to, you don’t have to try and pawn me off on other people first.”

“No,” Alice said, “no, you are not doing this, Virgil.”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like I’m out to get you. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m never trying to trick you, Virgil?”

Virgil opened his mouth to protest, then paused. He closed his mouth and swallowed back his insecurities.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re… right.”

Alice watched him for a moment longer. Then she reached out to touch his wrist lightly. “Of course I’m right. I’m me.”

Virgil laughed weakly. Alice gave his wrist a gentle squeeze.

“Think about it,” she said. “Please?”

Virgil shook his head. “It’s a bad idea. They’re better off without me.”

“How many times have I also told you that you have dangerously low self esteem?’

“This isn’t about my self esteem, this is about facts. They’re so- I can’t give them what they want.”

“Virgil-”

Virgil pulled his arm away. Alice released him.

“I’m okay,” he said. He smiled at Alice, trying to reassure her. “I’ll start trying to figure out a place to live that isn’t a futon.”

“I’m not trying to rush you, Virgil.”

“I know.” Virgil hesitated, then reached out to touch the back of Alice’s hand, briefly. “You know I appreciate you, right?”

Alice blinked at her hand in surprise, then looked up at Virgil. Her eyes shone bright when she smiled fondly.

“I know, dumbass.”

X X X X X

Virgil could feel the music pulsating through his bones, rattling his ribs. He let the crowd jostle him, a push and pull of bodies that formed an obscene kind of dance, a group wave that crashed against the dance floor in a hypnotic rhythm. He felt an arm wrap around his waist and laughed as Remy pulled him close, eyelids sparkling bright gold when he winked at Virgil and shimmied his shoulders to the beat of the song.

Despite how tired Virgil felt- he had worked a double shift today, and had almost cancelled their plans to go out- the energy of the club was infectious. Virgil normally clung to the walls, but it was dark enough that he felt confident enough to dance, letting music he didn’t know the lyrics to wash over him and loosen his limbs.

A body pressed in behind him. He turned and angled his head down so that Alice could lean in close to his ear. “What do you think of that girl?” she asked.

Virgil turned in the direction she was looking, peering at the girl she had fixed her attention on. She was dressed in all white, which, paired with her pale blond hair, made her look far too angelic for the dance moves she was throwing down.

“You mean the one that’s been staring at you all night?” Virgil had to raise his voice for Alice to hear him. He could see her blush through the shifting purple lights.

“Shut up!” Alice turned to look over her shoulder, sleek hair shining. She had drawn such a sharp cat eye that the eyeliner nearly reached her temples. “Has she?”

Virgil laughed and nudged her. “Go dance with her!”

Alice took a moment to grin at him before turning and shoving her way through the crowd. Virgil watched with amusement as she stumbled towards the girl, remarkably un-elegant in her high heels.

“Has our girl found herself a boo?” Remy asked, his voice loud in Virgil’s ear. He peered over Virgil’s shoulder, painted eyes narrowed.

“I do believe she has.”

“That lucky fucking bitch.” Remy’s cheeks glinted with highlighter as he shook his head. “There is no way I’m about to let her have all the game. Mind if I go fishing for a man?”

“As long as you never use that phrasing again.”

Remy leaned in to press a wet kiss to Virgil’s cheek, and Virgil shoved him off with a laugh. Then Remy was gone, disappeared into the mass of bodies surrounding them.

The song changed to a techno beat that made the crowd roar with delight. Virgil turned to look vaguely towards the DJ, a bit of confidence leached away by the absence of his friends surrounding him.

Then a man slid in front of him, teeth gleaming bright under the pulsing purple lights, and Virgil felt a pleased smile grow on his face.

They danced to song after song that Virgil didn’t know, moving closer until they were pressed so near to each other that their movements became one. The man was attractive, or at least what Virgil could see of him was attractive; tall and lean, wearing a dark muscle t-shirt that dipped low over his chest. Virgil normally avoided muscle shirts, but when the guy rested a hand on his hip, Virgil decided he could make an exception.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked after a few more songs, lips brushing the shell of Virgil’s ear in a way that made him shiver.

Virgil just nodded with a grin, and together they turned to cut through the crowd towards the bar. Virgil was jostled from all sides, dancing bodies pressing in on him and making it difficult to walk. He kept close to the tall figure in front of him, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the small of his back.

When they broke free of the dance floor Virgil sucked in a breath of cool air, grateful for some space. Then an arm wrapped around his shoulders, sweaty and warm, pulling him close, and though the firmness of it made him a bit uncomfortable it also sent a thrill of excitement through him. He allowed himself to be guided past the seating area to the bar tucked into the corner of the club. It was dimly lit and crowded there, but the man Virgil was with cut easily through the lingering people and stepped up to the counter.

“Rum and coke,” he told the bartender when she turned her attention to them. He had to lean over the counter and shout to be heard over the music. He glanced at Virgil with a question in his very handsome face, and Virgil shouted back, “Same!”

The bartender drew away to make their drinks, nodding her head to the music. The man leaned his hip against the counter and grinned at Virgil.

“You’re cute, you know,” he said. His eyes were pleased as they ran down Virgil’s body in a way that sent a thrill of heat through him.

Virgil rested his elbow on the counter and raised his eyebrows. He had had a few drinks earlier and he could still feel the effects of them loosening his muscles, helping him perform more confidently than he would have sober. “Am I?”

“What’s your name?”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond- then his eyes caught a flash of white over the man’s shoulder, a hint of a figure so pale under the flashing lights that they looked ghostly, and Virgil felt the blood drain from his face, recognition passing over him like a sickness.

“Hello?”

Virgil yanked his eyes away from the figure just as they turned to face him. He squinted through the dim lighting at the man’s face across from him, trying to focus on his frown.

“What?”

“I asked what your name was!” He raised his voice louder, so loud that Virgil almost winced.

“I-” Virgil looked again over the man’s shoulder, but there was no sign of the person Virgil had thought he had seen. He shook his head, feeling slightly dazed. He had imagined him, then. He must have had too many drinks.

“Sorry,” he said, returning his focus to the man once more. He looked a bit irritated, and Virgil bit back a sudden bout of nausea to smile at him, trying to force the confidence he had lost. “I’m, um-”

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” The music was making his head ache. Someone jostled him from behind in an effort to get closer to the bar, and a spike of panic shot through Virgil’s chest. He swallowed it down and glanced instinctively towards the dance floor, looking for Alice or Remy. “I’m- sorry, but I think I have to go.”

“What?” He definitely looked annoyed, heavy brow furrowed in bewilderment.

“Yeah, I have to go meet a friend.”

“Hey.” The man caught Virgil’s wrist when he tried to walk away. Virgil froze, eyes dropping to the hand gripping him. “Our drinks haven’t come.”

“I’m-” Virgil twisted his wrist slightly, trying to pull away, but the man didn’t budge. He felt his heartbeat quicken in a familiar way. “Would you- would you let go of me, please?”

“Don’t you have time for one drink?” One tug and Virgil was drawn closer, close enough that he could smell the sweat soaked into the man’s shirt, and Virgil found that his tongue couldn’t move when he grinned down at him, eyes still raking down Virgil’s body.

“Excuse me,” said a smooth voice behind him. The man looked up with a frown, but Virgil kept his eyes fixed on the broad, defined chest pressed in front of him, too frightened to try to pull away again.

“What?” The man’s voice came out a grumble that Virgil could feel.

“Let go of him.”

Virgil finally looked up at that. He raised his head and glanced over his shoulder, and then his stomach dropped, and he felt his breath stall in his throat because he hadn’t imagined him at all.

Logan’s expression was hard, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. The man holding Virgil tightened his grip, drawing him an inch closer to his sweaty chest.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked in the tone of someone who was about to get a favorite toy taken from them.

Logan’s eyebrows crept higher. He tilted his head to the side, looking at the man as though he were a bug under a dirty microscope. “Let go of him,” he repeated.

Virgil stared at him with wide eyes, unable to look away. He was so fixated on Logan behind him that he didn’t notice the man scoff and release him with a shove that sent him stumbling back several paces.

“Whatever,” he said, eyeing Virgil with irritation. He turned back to speak to the bartender as she returned with two drinks, scowl firm on his face.

A hand touched Virgil’s arm. Virgil turned and caught Logan’s eye. He opened his mouth to say something, but Logan just let his fingers fall to brush Virgil’s elbow and gently tugged to pull him away from the bar.

Virgil’s heart was pounding so loudly he could hardly hear the music anymore. He followed Logan towards the corner of the small seating area pressed off to the side, past the couples sitting in each other’s laps and pressing messy kisses to each other’s necks.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked when he drew to a stop near the wall. It was a touch quieter here, enough for him to lower his voice for some privacy.

Virgil blinked and nodded. Logan looked out of place in his usual white button-down, hair slicked back neatly out of his face. Virgil still wasn’t altogether sure that this wasn’t some strange drug-induced hallucination.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, confused mind scrambling to find some explanation.

Logan sighed. “Might we be civil?”

“I _am_. I’m just a little confused why you’re here, in a club of all places-”

“I am here for the same reason as you.”

Virgil snorted, unable to help himself. “You’re here to dance?”

Logan pursed his lips. “No,” he admitted. His sharp eyes flicked to the dance floor, a displeased frown on his lips. “It looks terribly sweaty.”

“So, what,” Virgil said. An awful thought sprang into his mind. “You’re- following me?”

Logan looked insulted. “Not at all,” he said. “I was invited.”

“You were-?” Virgil squinted at him for a moment, then groaned loudly as it hit him. “It was Alice, wasn’t it? She- goddamn it, I’m going to kill her.”

“Virgil-”

“I told her to stay out of my business! I told her- ugh.” Virgil ran his hand through his hair, turning to glare out at the bodies on the dance floor. He couldn’t pick Alice out, but he hoped that she could feel his displeasure radiating towards her.

“If you would like me to leave, I will do so. I only wished to speak to you.”

Virgil turned back to Logan. The other man was watching him, face flushed purple under the lights. His eyes glimmered with the reflection of the club as he met Virgil’s gaze.

“What do you want?” Virgil asked finally.

“To talk.”

“You said that. About what?”

Logan hesitated, glancing out at the club. “I am passing no judgment on your past time,” he said, “but this is a rather inconvenient place to host a discussion. Might there be some quieter venue we could move to?”

“God, Logan, I don’t know. The bathroom’s quiet.”

He said it mostly in jest, and because he was still disoriented, and thus was surprised when Logan nodded sharply. “I suppose that will do,” he said, then looked expectantly at Virgil.

Virgil ran his tongue over his bottom lip, debating. He shouldn’t, right? This was… this was absurd. He didn’t have to do this, he didn’t have to talk to Logan when he had worked so hard to avoid him over the past few months. He definitely didn’t have to take him to the bathroom to have some kind of quiet, clandestine meeting.

Then Virgil sighed and pushed away from the wall, because yes, he did.

He twisted his way through the mass of people towards the stairs, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure Logan was close behind. He always was, nose wrinkled at the tipsy people falling around him, hands stiff at his side to avoid touching anything or anyone. Virgil would have laughed at him at any other time.

The bathroom was tucked into the corner of the club opposite the bar. Virgil grabbed the doorknob and twisted it experimentally, unsure whether he should be relieved or disappointed to find it unlocked.

Virgil waited until Logan was in before shutting the door and locking it behind him. When he turned around he wasn’t surprised to find Logan casting his gaze around, assessing the small, musty room for suitability.

“What do you want?” Virgil asked, trying to sound more confident than he felt. With the thick wooden door between them and the club, the sound was muffled enough that Virgil could actually hear himself think. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

“I promised Alice that I would not tell you who invited me,” Logan said. “Please do not be angry with her.”

“I’m not. I’m just sorry that she wasted your time inviting you.”

“Has she wasted my time?”

Virgil could see himself reflected in the mirror behind Logan’s head. He stared at himself, at his smudged eye makeup and sweaty bangs. He looked like a mess. “Well,” he said, tearing his eyes away from himself and back to Logan. “I don’t know what you want.”

“I want to know how you’ve been.”

“In general?”

“For the last few months, yes.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “Why?”

“Because I care. Must we pretend I don’t?”

Virgil’s chest tightened. He looked at his reflection again and straightened his dark t-shirt, trying to make himself look a bit more presentable.

“Are you here because of Patton?” he asked finally.

“I… am not,” Logan said. There was a hint of something Virgil couldn’t quite recognize in his voice, something bitter. “Actually, I was unaware that you and Patton had encountered each other again until Alice texted me.”

Virgil dropped his hand, letting the hem of his shirt slip back down. “Patton didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Patton is the best of us in many ways,” Logan said. He looked uncomfortable, his posture impossibly stiff. He looked down at the dirty floor, nose wrinkling as he lifted one foot experimentally off of it. “However, despite his ability to soothe the feelings of others, he is often entirely incapable of handling his own emotions.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can only assume that Patton was too upset about seeing you again to tell either me or Roman. Perhaps to spare our feelings, perhaps to spare his own. I do not know.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “And they… don’t know you’re here, do they?”

“No.”

“Right,” Virgil said. Cool. This was some kind of private intervention, then. “What did Alice tell you?”

“She told me where you would be tonight,” Logan said. “And that she thought it best if one of us were to approach you in a public venue, where you might feel safer.”

“Safer.”

“I’m sorry if my presence is unwanted. Once more, I can leave if you would like me to.”

“No,” Virgil said. “It’s… fine.” He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and pulled it out to glance at the screen.

**Remy (11:52 PM): where u at bitch**

**Virgil (11:52 PM): I’m fine.**

Virgil looked up from his phone to find Logan staring at him. In the dim restroom lighting his face seemed fuzzy, out of focus.

“Are you here to yell at me?” Virgil asked, because he wasn’t sure what to do with this silent contemplation.

Logan blinked, then shook his head. “No,” he said.

“But you’re angry.”

“No, Virgil, I’m not.”

Another buzz.

**Remy (11:55): o bitch r u in the BATHROOM again !!!!!!**

**Virgil (11:55): No. Go away.**

“Sorry,” Virgil said. “My, uh, friend…”

“It’s alright.”

Virgil chewed on his bottom lip, ran his tongue over his lip piercing. He put his phone away, ignoring his newest text from Remy, and looked down at his half-ruined sneakers.

“Great Expectations,” Logan said.

“What?”

“I reread it.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, a little thrown off by the change in subject.

“You were right about the characters being archetypes. I see them echoed often in popular culture. Miss Havisham, the jilted bride…”

“Yeah, she’s, uh.” Virgil raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “She’s a good character.”

“I enjoyed reading it,” Logan said. He tipped his head forward. “Much more so than the first time.”

“Why?”

“I tried to read it from your perspective.”

Warmth flooded Virgil’s cheeks. He kicked his toe against the grimy tile, scratching at the dirt with the tip of his shoe.

“Although I still think he is far too wordy at times,” Logan added, and Virgil felt his lips twitch up in a grin.

“Yeah, well,” he said. “We can agree to disagree.”

“That’s acceptable.”

Virgil raised his eyes and looked at Logan. In the dimly lit restroom, with off-white tiles framing him like dull jewels, he looked like a painting, like he should be forever immortalized just as he was now. When Logan blinked, Virgil could imagine the brush strokes painting the movement.

“Why aren’t you upset with me?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t understand. Do you want me to be upset?”

“No,” Virgil said. Then- “Maybe.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“But why? I was- I left you. I was awful, I- I blocked your numbers.”

“I know.” Logan’s voice was dry. “That was rather immature.”

“Then why aren’t you mad at me?”

“Because I know you had to do it.”

Before Virgil could respond, a sharp knock on the door made him jump.

“Virgil, darling,” shouted a familiar voice from the other side. “If you’re in here, I just wanted to let you know that I support you!”

Virgil scowled. Ignoring the confusion on Logan’s face, he hurried over to the door and turned the lock, yanking it open just enough to peer out into the dark hall.

“Go away,” he hissed.

Remy’s highlighter sparkled in the dark as he craned his neck to see over Virgil’s shoulder. “Relax, babe,” he said, fluttering his long eyelashes. “I just wanted to see what zesty hunk I was being abandoned for.”

“Seriously, Remy. Go away.”

Remy frowned. His eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?” he asked, lowering his voice.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yes, Rem. I’m fine. I’m- busy, alright?”

Virgil watched Remy’s grin slowly grow once more. “Busy,” he said, and then winked exaggeratedly at him. “Alright. Go get ‘em, tiger. Text when you’re done!”  
Virgil shut the door in his smug face, locking it again. He stared down at his hand on the silver lock, at his shaking fingers, and curled them into a loose fist to try and get them to stop.

“Friend of yours?” Logan asked behind him.

Virgil turned back around, smoothing his hand flat against his thigh. “Sometimes,” he said. “What do you mean, I had to do it?”

Logan’s amused expression faded. He reached up to tug at the collar of his button-down, straightening it. Virgil was glad he had had enough social awareness not to wear a tie to the club.

“I just meant that it was probably the wisest decision you could have made for your mental health. Our goal was to be a support network for you, but that became difficult to do so as… circumstances changed.”

“You mean when you all decided you wanted to sleep with me?”

Logan took a breath in through his nose, long and deep. “How very crass of you,” he said coolly. “Look. I am not a therapist-”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re trying to diagnose me.”

“My goal in coming here was not to upset you. If that is what I am doing, I will leave.”

Logan strode to the door, reaching for the handle. Virgil’s hand flew to his without thinking, moving to cover Logan’s fingers before he could leave.

“Wait,” Virgil said. “I- don’t. Please.”

He stared at Logan’s shoulder, watched it rise and fall. When Logan removed his hand from the doorknob and turned it over to take Virgil’s gently in his fingers, he didn’t look up.

Logan’s touch was impossibly light. He raised Virgil’s wrist, brushed his fingers against the faint blue veins there, and Virgil bit down on the shiver that ran through his body.

“I thought I would kill that man,” Logan said softly. He was so close that Virgil could feel his words brushing against his lips.

“What man?”

“The one out there. The one that grabbed you.”

“I had that under control,” Virgil said, then sucked in a breath when Logan’s fingers pressed down lightly on the inside of his wrist.

“I know.”

Their bodies were close, inches apart, and Virgil was suddenly hyper aware of every molecule of air separating them. He raised his free hand slowly, reaching up to touch Logan’s face, to run his thumb along the sharp line of his cheekbone. His skin was surprisingly soft.

Logan’s hand came up and cupped Virgil’s, pressing it flush against his cheek. His eyes were dark, deep blue under the fluorescent lights.

Before Virgil could do anything, Logan released him, turning to break free of the pull tugging them closer and taking a step back. Virgil stared at him, listening to the pounding of his own heart as Logan cleared his throat and straightened his glasses.

“I came here to make a promise to you,” he said. Virgil could see his cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink. “Friendship. I promise you friendship, Virgil, and nothing else.”

Virgil blinked several times, trying to bring his attention away from the color in Logan’s face, from the way his lips opened and closed when he spoke. “What?”

“I would very much enjoy having you in my life, Virgil. I wish to offer the friendship that I failed to before, to promise a relationship unburdened by…”

“Feelings,” Virgil said, and Logan nodded sharply. Virgil curled his fingers and uncurled them, feeling a tight pain growing in his chest. “What about- what about Roman and Patton?”

“Roman and Patton-” Logan hesitated. “They do not know that I am here. I do not wish to speak for them.”

“Right,” Virgil said, nodding to himself. “Right, they’re- they’re upset with me.”

“I did not say that. Roman has expressed nothing but concern for you.”

“Patton?”

“Patton is… Patton has never felt comfortable expressing negative emotions. It’s something he learned early on.”

“What does that mean?”

Logan opened his mouth and then closed it. “That is a discussion you should have with him,” he said quietly.

Virgil didn’t know what that meant, but he knew that it wasn’t the time to push it. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling dreadfully off-balance. He had been so confident just an hour ago, and now it was as though everything was crumbling around him. He couldn’t do this, right? He couldn’t let them back into his life. They were too complicated, too…

“You want me… as a friend?” he asked, eyeing Logan doubtfully.

“Nothing more,” Logan said, and- oh god. Virgil thought he believed him.

When Virgil continued to look uncertain, Logan said, “At least unblock my phone number. Reach out to me if you decide a platonic relationship is something you foresee for us. If you choose not to do so, I will understand, and will not attempt to see you again. You have my word.”

The thought made Virgil’s stomach twist with panic. He let his eyes rove Logan’s face, taking in each one of his features, trying to commit them to memory as though this were the last time he was seeing him. Doing what he hadn’t done the first time.

“Okay,” he said after several moments, his voice hardly a whisper.

Logan’s smile widened, just a bit. He glanced towards the closed door, towards the distant sound of the music pulsating beyond it. “I’ve kept you long enough,” he said. “You should enjoy your night.”

“You’re not going to stay?”

Logan actually snorted. “No,” he said. “I’ve a paper to write, I’m afraid.”

“Right,” Virgil said with a nod. “Right, yeah… okay.”

Logan moved back to the door and turned the lock with a click. He grabbed the doorknob, then paused, turning to glance at Virgil over his shoulder.

“It was… refreshing to see you again, Virgil,” he said.

Virgil could feel emotion pressing at his throat. He blinked it back and nodded, trying to say something, anything, _you too_ , but he didn’t, and then Logan had opened the door and left.

Virgil waited. He waited several minutes until he was certain that Logan was gone, and then he pulled open the door and slipped into the hall.

He was immediately hit by a wave of sound. He shut his eyes, letting the music and the shouting wash over him, coagulate with the sick feeling in his stomach until his head was pounding. He felt suddenly drunk again even though he hadn’t had a drink in hours.

His feet were moving without him thinking about it. He walked briskly back past the seating area, past the bar and towards the mass of people on the dance floor. There were more than before but he shoved his way in without worrying about it, twisting and elbowing his way past the people shooting him dirty looks, eyes out for an angel in white.

He found her very close to the DJ booth, pale hair flashing as she danced. Virgil stopped and looked at her, watched her for a moment, then looked to Alice beside her. She had an exhilarated look on her face as she pressed close, hands moving out to press against the girl’s waist.

Virgil waited without moving until Alice flipped her hair and turned her eyes in his direction. When they made eye contact, the smile on her face died.

Virgil watched her lean in close to the girl to excuse herself, brushing her lips against her cheek. Then she turned and slid through the crowd, bobbing like a cork towards him.

“Are you alright?” she shouted over the pop song blasting at them.

“You had no right.” Virgil’s voice wasn’t loud, but he knew that Alice heard him. Her face fell even further.

“Did- did it not go well?”

Virgil just shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t- you had no right-” He reached up and scraped his fingers through his hair, pulling so hard it hurt. He shook his head. “Forget it. Go back to dancing.”

“Virgil-!”

But Virgil had turned and plunged back into the crowd, shoving his way back through, away from the too loud music and the body heat.

When he broke free of the dance floor he made a beeline for the bar. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his skinny jeans, digging for the crumpled bills at the bottom. The bartender eyed him as he approached, probably recognizing him from earlier. One thin eyebrow rose when he set down a handful of bills and said, “Three tequila shots, please.”

She looked a bit doubtful, but then she glanced at the money and shrugged. She scooped it all up and left, returning a moment later with three clean shot glasses and a bottle. She set the glasses down, opened the bottle, and poured them all in quick succession, miraculously not spilling.

“Enjoy, hon,” she said, closing the bottle again and turning away to put it back.

Virgil picked up the first shot- it felt weighty in his hand- and raised it to his lips. He threw it back, ignoring the sharp taste as he set the empty glass down and picked up the next shot, poured that one down his throat, then repeated it again for the third time.

He turned away and coughed, throat burning. He stepped away from the bar, mouth pressed into the crook of his elbow, sucking in deep breaths that only set his throat alight even more. He felt the quick succession of shots taking effect immediately, sending warmth up into his head and down his arms and legs. A heady buzz settled over him and he blinked heavily as he dropped his hand, looking around.

He needed someone. He needed warmth, needed another body pressed against his, needed- needed to stop thinking about the way Logan’s hair had shone in the bathroom, the way his fingers had felt on his wrist-

Virgil passed the seating area, shrewd eye out for someone, anyone. Most everyone was coupled up at this point in the night, pressed together on small sofas and armchairs, coiled in a way that meant they would be there for hours. Virgil tried not to feel bitter as he stopped and watched them, unfocused gaze sliding from one dimly lit couple to the next.

A hand touched his shoulder. Virgil turned and squinted to focus on the heavily lined eyes swimming above him.

“Virgil?” Remy asked. “Are you alright?”

Virgil felt himself swaying and reached out to grab at Remy. His fingers found the fabric of his shirt, dug into it, and then Remy’s concerned face was right in front of him and Virgil let the alcohol take over as he leaned in and kissed him.

He only had a split second of blissfully warm lips against his before they were gone, and Virgil was left gasping into thin air and scrambling at Remy’s shoulder for support.

“Girl,” Remy said dryly above him. “You have really shitty coping mechanisms, you know that?”

The first sob broke free of Virgil. He let his head tip forward to fall against Remy’s chest, which smelled of Alice’s perfume. He felt Remy sighing around him.

“Right, it’s _that_ time of the night. Okay, babe, let’s get you home.”

Virgil shook his head, letting it roll against Remy’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

Remy’s hand came up to pat Virgil’s back. “Oh, I do not get paid enough for this. Alright, Virge, let’s go. Come on.”

Virgil let Remy turn him and wrap an arm around his waist so that he was supporting most of Virgil’s weight. They shuffled away, Virgil still crying and grasping at Remy’s shirt, babbling “I’m so sorry” every few seconds and receiving nothing but exasperated groans in response.

At some point Alice arrived and Virgil was transferred into her arms. He let her fold him into a sideways embrace, turning to press his face into her shoulder as they walked.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“No, I’m sorry, Virgil. We’re going to get you home, alright?”

That just made Virgil cry harder. As they walked he let himself slip into that alcoholic unawareness again, a numbness that spread through his body as they left the club and wandered away.

He remembered stumbling to the car, remembered Remy strapping him in, and then he remembered nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi dolls!! Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and kudos on the last chapter. I appreciate you all so much <3
> 
> Yes, there has been a three month time gap between the last chapter and this one. I hope you enjoyed having some new characters, and I promise that I'll be bringing Patton and Roman back soon!
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments below! Thank you for reading, and I hope you all have a fantastic day :D


End file.
